Sensory Perception
by frompen2paper
Summary: The progression of Chuck and Sarah’s relationship through the five human senses, plus that finicky sixth one…
1. Pacific Oceans and Hershey's Chocolate

_**Sensory Perception**_

_The progression of Chuck and Sarah's relationship through the five human senses, plus that finicky sixth one…_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

**Rating:** _Varied from chapter to chapter, but T overall (K for this one)_

**Timeline:** _Interspersed through the season and the ambiguous future yet to be written by the Chuck writing staff_

**Pairings:** _Chuck/Sarah with references to Ellie/Awesome, Morgan/Anna, Chuck/Jill, and Chuck/Lou_

_Well, as promised, here is the first chapter of my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic. As stated in the summary, this fic is Chuck and Sarah's respective perspectives on their relationship as it progresses using each of the five senses plus a bonus sixth sense, also known as ESP. Each chapter begins with Chuck's perspective, then shifts to Sarah's, and occasionally ends with a neutral moment. So here is the beginning of _Sensory Perception_. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 1**

_Sight_

_Pacific Oceans and Hershey's Chocolate_

Their first interaction comes through a simple glance. She strolls into his place of work, her royal blue eyes focused on his long, lanky form. At the moment, that form is engrossed in the paperwork that proceeded a rather lengthy and exasperating house call that, once he had deduced exactly what the customer had been trying to tell him what was wrong with the computer, culminated in him simply stooping over to insert the power plug - after a good hour and a half of circular, nonsensical babble.

As he glances casually up to catch a glimpse of whatever has captivated Morgan's rather erratic attention, his vision is filled a pair of stunningly blue eyes, as pure as an immaculate sapphire and as lucid as the waters tickling the beaches of the Hawaiian tropics. He's not quite sure if it's her ethereal beauty, or his innately clumsy nature, or even the sheer embarrassment of the situation, but he quite literally drops everything he's doing, snaps into a deceptive façade of cool professionalism, and slightly nervously greets her. As she speaks, he's staring. He knows he is, but he can't quite pull his eyes away from the vivid clarity of her eyes, never mind her face. Waxing poetic on the situation, he deems her a goddess, a stunningly striking being defying all boundaries of mortal beauty. Unconsciously, he compares her to Jill, the latter falling painfully short of the woman before him. Jill's eyes don't shine with the same clarity, nor did they ever have the same effect on his basic functioning process as evidenced by the strewn papers littering the countertop obscured slightly from view and the phone situated a ways away from its intended resting place. Jill's hair doesn't tumble in lustrous waves of golden sunshine down her shoulders the way this woman's does, and she sure didn't make a simple jacket and jeans combination look as alluring as this amazingly attractive creature seemed to do. Going off appearances, she looks just about too good to be true, and with Chuck's experience with women, she probably was. So when she leaves her number at the Nerd Herd desk, he doesn't think anything of it, just slides the card in his pocket, more to dissuade Morgan's slightly perverse tendencies than anything.

The second time Chuck sees her…Sarah…she's blatantly flirting with him, and he'd be lying if he'd claimed he wasn't surprised. After all, she was…well, she sure wasn't one who seemed as though she went for the nerdy types, and he was…Charles Irvine Bartowski, king of all nerdiness. Girls like her didn't go for head technicians that ran the Nerd Herd counter at the Buy More. They went for guys who lived the exciting life. The ones with the casual, model-like good looks and the expendable bank account who afforded the luxury of sweeping girls like her off to spontaneous, romantic vacations in the Caribbean islands. So seeing Sarah standing in front of him, unashamedly asking him out, didn't quite compute in his brain and certainly wasn't something that happened normally during his seven-hour shift behind the counter. He's slightly suspicious, but automatic reflex, accompanied with exuberant affirmatives from the little birdie by the entertainment system also known as Morgan, and general courtesy won't allow him to decline. Neither will the nagging feeling of biological masculinity that reminds him he hasn't had a date in five years. So he agrees. And hopes that his affirmative doesn't sound as embarrassingly eager as he thought it did.

As far as first dates go, he certainly wasn't lying when he said the date was far from the worst date of his limited romantic experience…well, at least it started that way. The sight of her surrounds him, from the wonderful picture that greeted him when she opened her door to the completely appealing image of her as she danced, and he can't help but absently think there were worst fates a man could suffer through. But as he learns the truth, as he becomes cognizant of her true intentions, the image that he's built in his mind drastically alters. Gone is the gorgeous, innocent woman who asked for help with a broken cell phone and in her place is the enigmatic CIA agent who probably knew exactly how to fix the cell phone, bug aforementioned device, and effectively convert that device into a veritable bomb. The only thing Chuck gleaned from that first date as every perception he harbored was shot to hell was that Sarah Walker was a CIA agent who was immensely gifted at her job…and masking her feelings.

In the days that follow, Chuck tries to break through that mask ingrained so deeply in her natural emotional reflexes. He doesn't want to think she notices him staring, but he knows the training ingrained into her consciousness is acutely aware of the fact. But he can't help it. She's just so…captivating. The way she walks, the way she speaks, the innate confidence that just radiates from her lissome, elegant form, every aspect of her draws his gaze into sharp focus. Most of the time, it's because he really is enthralled by her beauty. Any male partial to the female persuasion can see Sarah Walker is a fine specimen of woman and would be unashamed in staring. But at times, he's studying her, hoping that he can catch a glimpse of the _real_ Sarah Walker. The one that hides herself to the world – sad occupational hazard – behind a veil of stunningly sapphire eyes.

Sometimes, he loathes those eyes. Every time he gazes into those clear blue irises, ones that reminded him so much of the Pacific Ocean, he desperately yearns to drown in those eyes, lose himself in their depths, and unlock every secret she keeps shrouded behind those deceptively innocent orbs. Every time he feels the tiniest glimmer of hope, every time he sees that spark of genuine emotion, she yanks it back, hiding behind that veneer of indifference. He wishes so adamantly for something real, something tangible or even intangible that he could honestly say was the truth about this inscrutable, gorgeous woman, but Chuck Bartowski isn't naïve. He knows that she probably won't oblige him that one luxury. He knows it's probably way too dangerous. And he knows that she probably longs for the same thing but conventional reason bars her of succumbing to such temptation. But that doesn't mean he won't stop trying. 

Over time, that wish for something real still exists, but it seems to alleviate. He realizes that the woman before him with her enigmatic, clear blue eyes is all he really needs. He may not know everything about her, but what he does know, what little she has told him and what he has gleaned for himself, was enough. It was all enough. Enough for him to fall in love with her and enough for him to know that even with the government secrets in his head, even with the threat of displacement hovering constantly over his head, even with his life coming into unremitting contact with a little something he like to call absolute peril, he has found this inexplicable comfort in the conviction he holds that their ambiguously-defined relationship is something much more than just handler and asset. So, he settles for the truth he catches in those vivid, cobalt eyes every time they lock with his. She still thinks she sufficiently veils those emotions, staunchly denying any vestige of its existence, but he's Chuck Bartowski. He's unnaturally perceptive when it comes to her, and he knows. So he'll be patient, anxiously waiting for the day that she finally reveals what he means to her, what he's been cognizant of all along. And when he finally sees the unadulterated emotions without the accompanying guarded sheen, he'll be ready to show her exactly what he, himself, has been holding back.

* * *

At first sight, he didn't look like an intelligence agent. In fact, he looked like…well, a nerd. Tall and lanky, clothed in a white, short-sleeved dress shirt sporting a pocket protector and a small array of pens, a gray tie hanging from a crisply starched collar, black dress pants covering long legs, and a pair of well-loved Chuck Taylor sneakers at his feet, this man epitomized all she had stereotyped as geeky. Either he was really great at his cover or his tendencies truly shifted towards the less than debonair spectrum. But this was to whom Bryce sent the Intersect, and it was her mission to extract it. By whatever means necessary. She didn't know how dangerous this man was, as deceptively clad in his work uniform as he was, so she went with the age-old approach in an attempt to garner that information for herself: damsel in distress.

She realizes too late that he's not an agent. In fact, his bumbling manner and goofy, unassuming charm are as far from espionage-like as remotely possible. He's just a real guy caught up in something a bit too over his head. Something he probably wasn't even aware of. From the get go, she sees he's just a nice, honest Average Joe, willing to help a desperate father or a lady new to town. He wasn't part of the Agency, he was just unfortunate enough to know Bryce Larkin. She sees that within the first few minutes of their date as his face, more handsome than she originally judged, lights up in a smile. It's a smile devoid of deception, harboring nothing but genuine joy and eagerness. In her tenor, she's seen many agents, both good and otherwise, and no one she had ever encountered possessed such a smile. No, Chuck Bartowski wasn't an agent, and that was what made everything – the deception, the evasiveness, basically everything that went with the territory of covert intelligence – that much harder.

As they keep working together, she sees the effect she has on him. It's not uncommon; she had the same effect on Bryce when they began their partnership. But with Bryce, the emotions were subtle, barely discernable to the untrained eye. With Chuck, everything was palpable, blatant in his amiable, unassuming manner, and every now and then, she catches him staring. His deep chocolate spheres peer in her direction, constantly studying her, the crease in his brow becoming more pronounced as he delves even deeper into whatever contemplation runs through his mind. She thinks that he's trying to unravel the enigma he has repeatedly accusing her of being, and it startles her when she realizes exactly how much he has already unraveled. Through simply studying her, the lithe, graceful way she moves, what makes her laugh, what prompts the dazzling smile he always says she should unleash more often, he knows what teams she has the tendency to root for (she has an affinity for Boston teams; he's already caught her affection for the New England Patriots – the Super Bowl had prompted a good three hours at the local shooting range – and, much to his personal chagrin, the Boston Red Sox – the Bartowskis originally hail from the Bronx), he's already picked up on her eating habits (she'll eat a pizza with everything on it but meticulously pick out the olives; she'll dump loads of soy sauce on anything Asian but only likes a light coating of sauce on Italian), and he's even come to decipher her various forms of body language (shoulders square, legs braced, and her right arm slightly obscured from view indicates her gun is in her grasp and ready to be drawn; back ramrod straight, brow slightly furrowed, and posture tensed means that she's caught something amiss in their current location and is covertly searching for the source). And Sarah knows what dangerous territory this is. Knowing too much can lead to attachments, most of the time prohibited by nature. Attachments can lead to compromised situations. With someone as valuable as Chuck, those situations couldn't occur. As for her, as his handler, she had to know everything about him. To better understand her subject, of course. After all, attachment was forbidden. But, truth be told in the most confidential of atmospheres, she couldn't quite deny that fact as well. Yes, Sarah Walker was attached. So sue her. _You_ look into those earnest, innocent eyes and not find it difficult to yield… 

She loves his eyes. In the past, she had always found herself more drawn to lighter eyes, dismissing darker eyes as boring, but that misconception abruptly righted itself the first time she gazed into the endless depths of Chuck Bartowski's brown eyes. From afar, his eyes seem plainly brown, a lighter shade, but simply so. Nothing more, nothing less. However, at close proximity, she notices that they possess a myriad of different shades of brown that when combined border slightly on an amber hue when he wears lighter colors. It's through those eyes that she sees every aspect of his personality: his innate warmth, his understated charisma, and his endearing innocence marred only by the deceptive actions of one Bryce Larkin, ironically enough to preserve that purity. His eyes held the purest shade of brown that could be found in the creamiest of chocolates, the most lush of soil, and occasionally in a Crayola crayon box sandwiched between Unmellow Yellow and Atomic Tangerine. That was what made those dark orbs so exotic. She once laughingly referred to his eyes as Hershey's eyes. When he asked her what she meant by that, she answered that during his different moods, his eyes embodied every chocolate created. And it's true. When he's content, those eyes twinkle with a shade of milk chocolate. During his rare but potent moments of staunch conviction, they cloud to the richest of dark chocolates, and in times of exuberance, they warm to a marshmallow-filled cup of hot cocoa one savors on a cold winter's day. But she finds the hazard in those eyes. As the time passes, it's harder to deny him anything. She doesn't think he's aware of it, but it's those eyes that could possibly endanger her mission, and she doesn't mean just the Intersect…

When they "break up," the sight of him pains her, not that that particular admission would ever make its way into public consumption, let alone be vocalized to the subject in question. Nope, that little detail is going to stay in the depths of her subconscious mind where it belongs, and the niggling feeling can stay where it is…there's nothing she can do about it as hard as she tries. So, when he begins dating the sandwich maker, Lou, the sight of them together elicits a dull ache that she would rather ignore than compartmentalize. _You brought that on yourself, Walker,_ she chastises herself. After all, she had denied that their relationship was going anywhere, despite feelings toward the contrary - very, very deep-rooted feelings, but feelings that subsist nonetheless. However, she rationalizes, it was for his own good. And hers. Really. But with each successful date completed between two vertically-measured contradictions, those emotions become harder and harder to ignore. In his sly, subtly calm and inexplicable way, Chuck Bartowski has burrowed to the part of her that she thought disappeared the moment her real self ceased to exist and the kick ass CIA agent emerged from the ashes. Even with her fascia as proficient CIA operative, that niggling feeling that she's letting stew is slowly starting to consume her, and she doesn't quite know how to deal with such a development. Agency training and conventional wisdom are yanking in one direction as her heart tugs her in another. In the end, the force that pushes her towards that illicit end comes from the unlikeliest of sources: Casey.

_**Huffing at the slight dressing down Team Bartowski endured after a less-than smooth capture of their latest subject, Casey waited until their superiors had severed contact and Chuck had left the apartment to join Morgan in a **_**Rock Band**_** concierto of massive proportions (his words) before turning to Sarah, intent in his eyes. "Look, Walker, just tell him."**_

_**Too surprised at the very direct, very meaningful statement coming from Casey to feign ignorance, Sarah blurted the first thought that flashed through her mind. "What?"**_

_**"You two schmucks are driving me nutso with all this dancing around," Casey grunted. "Contrary to whatever Bartowski claims, I am not a robot incapable of human emotion. I can see how you two look at each other, and don't you dare try and deny it," Casey growled as Sarah opened her mouth to protest such a claim. "You two with your longing looks and lingering touches are worse than that damned soap opera about the rich kids," he grumbled. Pointing a finger at the now blank computer screen, Casey cocked an eyebrow. "And I wouldn't put it past Cagney and Lacey over in Washington that they can see it too."**_

_**Sarah withheld an audible gulp as she ruminated the consequences of such a development. Meekly, she posed the inevitable question. "Even if they can, they would have said something, so why haven't they?"**_

_**Casey shrugged, unsure of the answer himself. "Ignorance is bliss," he reasoned, "and our track record is spotless. Despite his…bumbling tendencies, Bartowski is actually adequate at what he does."**_

_**A nagging feeling struck Sarah as she mulled over Casey's warning. "Why are you telling me this, Casey?"**_

_**Casey stared down at his hands for a long moment before responding. When he looked up again, Sarah stifled surprise at the poignant emotion shining in the normally stony blue spheres. "I know what it feels like," he stated simply.**_

_**Sarah nods at the understated allusion to Ilsa, but she can't help but comment, "I distinctly recall a lecture about this exact subject that went a completely opposite direction it's going now."**_

_**"Look, I told you that the choice we made to protect something bigger than ourselves was the right choice, and it's true," Casey reasoned. "But keep in mind that you asked **_**me**_**." Casey poked one finger in his chest for emphasis. "What other answer did you expect? That I'd want the housewife, picket fence, and two-point-five?" Casey scoffed. "C'mon, Walker, I'm happy with my Crown Vic and Second Amendment rights. I may have forgone the American Dream to protect the ignorant yahoos of this country, but that doesn't mean I don't believe this job is worth walking away from if the right person came along." Casey shrugged. "I may not personally make that choice, but I'd never bar anyone from the option, either."**_

_**"So why tell me that then?" Sarah pressed.**_

_**"Look, Bartowski's situation was delicate at the time," Casey stated plainly. "We had a rogue branch of intelligence agents after the most valuable intelligence asset in the history of the United States, and you just found out Larkin was alive. I needed your head in the game, Walker, and that little spiel was supposed to be the kick in the pants that would get it back to where it had to be."**_

_**"Casey, was that a compliment?"**_

_**"Don't get used to it," Casey grunted. "I'm man enough to admit that you're a good agent, Walker, when you're not distracted by our asset…" **_

_**Ignoring the jab at the tail end of the compliment, Sarah resisted the urge to gape at the uncharacteristic bout of emotion spilling from the characteristically stoic NSA agent. "Casey…that's unnaturally sensitive and surprisingly insightful."**_

_**Casey's eyes narrowed. "Don't let it get out. I've got a reputation to uphold." Catching the immensely entertained gleam in Sarah's eyes, Casey all but growled. "Look, all I know is that a happy Bartowski is a less annoying Bartowski. Mopey Bartowski prompts me to observe my favorite Constitutional Amendment, and if I do that, the information we're so hell bent on protecting would be rendered a little more than useless. Then I would have to disappear real quick because you'd most likely chop my head off for harming a hair on his head." Casey leaned in, his patented smirk adorning his face. "So do me a favor and give me happy Bartowski?" The smirk widening on his face indicated exactly how Casey expected Sarah to produce a "happy" Bartowski.**_

_**To Casey's surprise, Sarah didn't recoil with disgust at the blatant innuendo, only cocked an eyebrow. In fact, she looked…amused. "You know, if I didn't know any better, Casey, I'd say you've grown actually fond of Chuck."**_

_**This time, Casey actually did growl. "Perish the thought from your mind, Walker. I'm simply looking out for the best interests of our country," he defended. "As much as it pains me to say it, Bartowski is a reliable and efficient asset. I will admit that we could have done a hell of a lot worse." Casey's glare turned sharp. "Plus a mopey you is gonna get everyone killed, including your lover boy."**_

_**The expression on Sarah's face shifted to alarm. "Casey…"**_

_**Casey shrugged unapologetically. "You tend to fall for the guys you work with, Walker. Known fact," Casey stated. "Bartowski is about two seconds away from throwing in the towel. So, by default, all burden would relegate to me."**_

_**"Thought you weren't interested, Casey," Sarah teased, her eyes lighting up with potent amusement.**_

_**"Still not," he answered. "But any man with a working penis can see you're not a bad looker, Walker."**_

_**Sarah wrinkled her nose, not even bother to disguise her discomfort. "That…was surprisingly disturbing," **_

_**"Sweet mother of Ronald Reagan, you're starting to pick up on his speaking habits…" Casey muttered as he turned and headed out his apartment door amidst Sarah's laughter. "The espionage world is doomed."**_

And as Sarah's lids flutter open, and she's greeted with an eyeful of the adorably morning-tousled Chuck Bartowski, his lanky body curled protectively around hers, dwarfing her considerable height noticeably, she can't help but smile. That one curl that hugs his temple has fallen onto his forehead, and she brushes it away prompting a fluttering of his own eyelids as they shift and eventually part, leaving Sarah to stare into the soulful sepia of his eyes. As her own face greets his vision in his first moment of consciousness, Chuck smiles, his arms tightening around her torso, and his lips find her forehead in a chaste salutation. In that moment right there, that innocent, unobtrusive moment, she knows. Despite the warnings, despite the rather illicit nature of this affair, despite every threat that looms over their existence, if this is the sight she's privy to every day for the rest of her life, the espionage world can survive a doomsday or two.

_And cut! Well, I hope you all liked the beginning of this fic. I admit, it's a new style for me, and I hope it makes some semblance of sense. Anyway, next up is sound. Stay tuned!_

_Roxy_


	2. Truths and Declarations

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

_Okay, I am astounded at the positive feedback the first chapter garnered, and I thank all who reviewed. This chapter, as I stated, is sound, and I must admit it was probably the most difficult to write, aside from the next chapter which is smell. This chapter is a bit more subtle than the last, and you have to really pick out where the sense of hearing comes into play because it's a bit hidden beneath everything else. Anyway, here you go, and enjoy!_

**Chapter 2**

_Sound_

_Truths and Declarations_

Looking back on the events that transpired after the infamous Intersect, Chuck recalls only one time when he seriously found himself dissuaded from the prospect of something more with Sarah. Ironically, he hears the person before he sees her. She's a whirlwind of licorice hair and a pert, small stature, the sharp cacophony of the service bell preceding her voice as both drift to his sense of hearing in the form of a high-pitched, frantic appeal evidencing her panic. He reaches for the slim Blackberry, only to have her yank it back with a rambled admonition warning him how her life was on that phone. Subsequently, if he can't fix said device, she is going to suffer an existential meltdown of epic proportions. Her mini paroxysm is cute, and Chuck can't really deny the fact that so is she. Through a short conversation, most of which consists of her spastic freak out and his attempts to calm her, he feels a connection with this girl – Lou, she said her name was. Oddly fitting. Quirky name, quirky girl – and this inexplicable pull she exhibits on him is difficult to ignore as she returns to collect her phone the next day. That day, Sarah pops in, seemingly out of nowhere, to provide the nagging voice that enunciates the exact reason he should be ignoring said pull. Accordingly, Chuck curses that dumb intonation echoing in his sense of hearing. Yes, he's kinda, sorta – not really, though most people aren't privy to that factoid – in a (complicated) relationship. But that pull festers, teasing him with snippets of her sprightly voice that ring in his ears. Dammit. 

It was supposed to be simple. Forgo possibility for reality, but as Chuck has come to learn from his rudimentary study of physics, for every reaction, there is an equal but opposite reaction, and that reaction comes in the sound of Sarah telling him that it's time for them to make love…for the cover, of course. Immediately, his mind flashes to lazy mornings proceeding long nights of tangled limbs and a certain CIA agent posing as his girlfriend wearing nothing but his bed sheets. He would be a dirty, rotten liar if he denied that image wasn't arousing, but that vision is fake. This pull is real, and that fact stays with him as Chuck and Sarah lie together on opposite sides of a bed, pretending to make love for the benefit of Ellie and Awesome. 

And as the pull piques with time and mounting frustration, he finds himself unconsciously comparing Lou and Sarah, much as he has done time after time with Sarah and Jill. To the naked eye, Lou and Sarah are polar opposites, complete contradictions of one another. Sarah stands taller than the average woman, even more than most men. She's slender but in those lean limbs are bunches of corded muscle meticulously managed as evidenced by her enticing Princess Leia costume. Her lustrous, sinuous hair streams down to the middle of her back in straight strands the color of the golden sunrise, and her eyes are the boldest of blue, sharply focused and intense, clouding true emotions behind a guarded mask. By total contrast, Lou's petite, dwarfing him by a clear foot-plus, and her slim physique is nothing but natural genetics. Her brown hair is wavy, just brushing the tops of her shoulders, and her dark eyes shine with a peppy, perky sheen he's not quite used to. It's unguarded, open, and most of all, honest. There is no wall he must bust through for something genuine because it's all out there in the open. No searching, no needling. Just there. But the biggest difference between Lou and Sarah, possibly the catalyst that propels Chuck towards the former, is one simple thing, a trivial thing, really, but something that Sarah had been skirting ever since he had locked eyes with her that first day at the Buy More. The truth.

The sound of three words, not even those Three Words, spoken candidly and without reservation sent Chuck into a flurry of concentrated contemplation that had him seriously rethinking the his current not-really-a-relationship relationship. Looking him right in the eye, no deceptions, no facades, just genuine candor, Lou declares that she likes him. In fact, she likes (almost) everything about him. She thinks he's cute, funny, and their vast (he really couldn't have supplied a better description, himself) height difference intrigues her. But she can't stand men who cheat. It's direct, it's honest, and it's refreshing. Chuck can't help but wish he could hear it again. He hasn't heard the truth for a good few months. His life has been a spun and manufactured fabrication of pretext, half-truths, and evasive answers, and her words are nothing but invigorating.

So when he, Sarah, and Casey fall under the influence of a dangerous truth serum, Chuck sees their precarious situation as an advantageous moment. Finally, after months of eluding the issue, he can glean the truth. He can at long last reap the motivation behind Sarah's lingering looks, intimate touches, and words inconveniently interrupted. It's the perfect plan. Chuck really should have predicted it would massively backfire the way it had.

"_**I'm sorry…No."**_

Subsequently, when Sarah intones her own set of three words, they elicit quite a polarized feeling than he originally anticipated. He really should have figured. The feeling that arises from three simple words lacks familiarity, and Chuck's sure familiarity with this type of pain would be a sad, pitiful existence. Even the with the experience of Jill leaving him for Bryce, even with the agony of getting kicked out of Stanford with scant weeks left in his senior year, Chuck had never felt the pain as the packed in the guise of those three words. It was a different kind of pain, one so foreign and different, yet familiar at the same time. With Jill, it was a sharp, sudden knife plunging into his back, one that Chuck barely had time to brace himself for, let alone react to. With getting kicked out of Stanford, it was a prolonged, blunt wallop to the head, one that came so rapidly but built to an overwhelming ache left the deepest of wounds in his innate innocence and sanguinity. It was the day Chuck Bartowski thought he learned the truth about the human condition through the actions of one Bryce Larkin. That day, he thought he had felt pain. But this pain…this pain was different. It was a combination of the ultimate blow of devastation blended with the numb throbbing of misconceptions and the painful reality of the truth. And to be honest, he would never wish that type of pain on anyone. It was the pain of the last vestige of hope, the final remnant of optimism disintegrating into a complete void of empty oblivion. Three words did this. The truth did this.

"_**I'm sorry…No."**_

The sound of her voice as she speaks, the image of her mouth as it forms those dreaded words, the deadened ache beating in his breast sensitizes his basic functioning systems as those words wash over him and consume his world. They resound through his subconscious, mocking him with their disregard. He's cognizant that yes, he's brought this on himself, as that same intuition derides him, but he sneers at that little voice. It's better to know now then have his hopes build up for an even higher plummet. The rationalization fails to alleviate the ache. It's still there. He knows it's not physically possible, but he can swear he hears the hollow _clunk_ of his heart plummeting down to his gut. It's gonna settle there for awhile. Fester, if you will, and continue to mock him. He tries to let it all go, but the situation's got a vice grip around his heart. He battles sleep as those words echo in his mind, absorbed through his brain, and ricocheting off the walls to reverberate in his ears.

"_**I'm sorry…No."**_

Goddammit…

* * *

She likes to think that out of all her senses, she's honed her sense of hearing the best. As an agent, she has learned that sometimes one can't trust her eyes, so she relies on her ears to pick up everything from location to depth to, in the right circumstances, the breathing pattern of a target. But as Chuck Bartowski worms his way into her heart, situating himself stubbornly between her desires and her fears – and as hard as she tries, she doesn't have any sort of desire whatsoever to boot him out – she tends to curse her acute ears. For every time a gunshot that permeates her hearing, she fears that bullet was the One. As Casey was begrudged to point out, Chuck has remarkable survival instincts, but they all know that even the most cunning of espionage agents could still fall victim to a bullet. Every time she hears the scuffle of a rumble, she hopes it's not him in the middle of the chaos. Every time a girlish screech of terror pierces the air, she prays it's not his distinct scream. Each time the Intersect plunges them into the hub of their latest mission, Sarah never truly relaxes until the comforting sound of his panting breaths filled with adrenaline and his deep baritone shouting exuberances reach her ears.

She knows that she breaks his heart when she denies the thing between them (yes, there is a thing…), but it was for a certain preservation. He can't hold the hope of something more, even if that particular sentiment does exist, and she can't allow the possibility. Allowing the possibility would have her yanked away from him faster than Casey drawing his gun during a standoff and Chuck locked in some remote area with no human contact and deafening silence to keep him company. It's the only time she's blatantly lied to him, but it's to keep him safe. Really. So when that little spiel of his after the debacle with the manic gymnast with his ridiculous truth serum culminates in their inevitable break up, she knows she shouldn't be affected by his words. But who was she kidding? They echo through her ears, traveling straight to her heart. But, she argues, part of her is relieved. A part very, very deep down inside, but it's there. She just has to look. Really hard.

Through her own fault, the "thing" between Chuck and Lou ends as abruptly as it started, and Chuck returns his attentions to her. Not that she can blame him. That kiss…_whoa_. They leapfrog over various obstacles (Bryce's imminent return, Chuck's threatened extraction) but evade any serious damage (though Chuck argues that watching Bryce stick his tongue down her throat was pretty damaging, even more so than getting shot), and as she's come to expect with one Chuck Bartowski, he wears her down. In retrospect, she's not quite sure how he manages such a feat, but settles on his affinity to do the little things, the normal things she has longed for ever since beginning this accursed mission. Chuck Bartowski is nothing if not subtly persistent and exasperatingly endearing, and slowly but surely, he has fit himself in the places she has eschewed for a rootless existence filled with anonymity. Casey throws them both by supporting their illicit affair, though he does warn them that if the superiors catch wind of this forbidden development, they are both fucked worse than Nixon after Watergate (his words).

Surprisingly…or maybe not, she's the one to initiate it. It being the real Three Words, but it's not quite how she imagined it happening. In her mind, she thought of some big epiphany with fireworks and big explosions, a dramatic declaration complete with pomp and circumstance. In reality, the moment is actually very understated…well, on her part. Chuck's never been one to do something halfway. 

_**Lounging on the couch on a lazy Sunday morning, basking in the aftermath of yet another completed mission, Sarah turned to Chuck. At the moment, he was engrossed in some show about a fake psychic working for the police forced to maintain the charade in order to avoid getting arrested. It wasn't quite the caliber of geekdom she used to in him, but it was amusing, and she loved hearing Chuck laugh at the antics of the charlatan clairvoyant.**_

"_**Chuck?"**_

"_**Yeah?" Completely engrossed in the hilarity of the program, Chuck grinned as the fake psychic flailed dramatically in the throes of a "vision."**_

_**Sarah hesitated. She has never said those words to anyone outside of her immediate family and certainly not in the last decade, at least not sincerely. She's unsure of how to proceed. There's still so much uncertainty between them, so many lines that could be potentially be crossed that honestly shouldn't even be considered in the first place. Still, she's a woman of stalwart conviction, and she's completely convinced of her feelings, even if she does doubt she's worthy of reciprocation. **_

"_**I…" Her voice caught in her throat before she composed herself and surged on. "I love you."**_

_**Chuck nodded absently, his eyes still fixated on the television screen. "Oh. Okay." **_

_**Sarah simply stared at his lack of reaction. She ran over her words in her mind, making sure she confessed what she intended to rather than something inconsequential like the grocery list she had been planning in her head. Yes, she said she loved him. Yes, she didn't stutter. Yes, she said the words in the correct order, and yes, Chuck completely failed to react. Sarah deflated in disappointment. For his part, Chuck paused, a crease appearing in his forehead as the sensation tingled through his perception that he'd missed something. As his mind replayed the last thirty seconds that had just transpired, Chuck froze, the moment truly registering, and he started, whipping towards her. "Wait!" **_

_**His face softened, and she saw all the emotions flickering in the depths of his amber eyes. One hand drifted upward to cradle her cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed at the tremors the simple gesture elicited. His thumb began methodically stroking her skin, and she felt the breath on her lips before his mouth tenderly caressed hers. Pulling back from the embrace, Chuck smiled a serenely content smile before he reciprocated. "I love you too."**_

_**Her heart stuttered as this time, she deflated in disbelief. "Really?" She didn't want to doubt him, but nagging feelings tended to make their presence known at the most inopportune of times. "You don't know me…"**_

"_**I know enough," Chuck answered candidly. "And what I do know I admire and I love." He shrugged, searching for the right words to alleviate her reservations. "Love has a lot to do with trust," he stated, "and I trust that in time, you'll tell me all I want to know." **_

_**Chuck pressed a reassuring kiss to her forehead, a gesticulation so unsullied, so innocuous, that she was tempted to shy away from the tenderness of it all. **_

"_**Just being with you is enough," he murmured. "The fact that you're defying just about everything to take this chance and love me…" Chuck trailed off, unable to truly vocalize his emotions, and he shrugged. "I fell in love with Sarah Walker, and if that's who you want me to know, then I can forget about whoever you were before. Sarah Walker is all who matters to me. You're all who matters to me…all aliases, all parts."**_

_**Thrown by the declaration, Sarah let the tiniest, most miniscule particle of doubt materialize to the surface before chastising herself at the thought. She should have known exactly how receptive he would be to this development. Chuck Bartowski loved wholly and without reservation. But even with that grain of knowledge, she still attempted to dissuade him from the prospect of even possibly breaking his heart with the deceptive nature of her job. Backwards thinking, perhaps, but she understood with perfect coherence the risks of involvement with an agent, especially an agent like herself. And she's willing to let him go if that's what he truly wants. **_

_**Taking a deep breath, Sarah readied her tenacity. This was for his own good. "I'm a trained assassin, Chuck. I've killed…deceived…tortured…" She faltered with her subsequent query, not quite wishing to hear his answer for fear of her own anxiety. "Are you truly okay with that?"**_

_**Chuck quirked that smile of his, and Sarah felt her resolve waver. "Since you've obviously found your way around assassinating me, I'm alright with that. You do what you have to do to protect the country…" He leaned in, eyes dancing with mirth. "And it's kinda sexy…"**_

"_**Chuck…"**_

_**He caught her warning tone, and a furrow appeared in his brow. Sarah looked away. These were the times where she cursed his keen acuity to her feelings. **_

_**Chuck scooted closer, refusing to allow her to place space between them. "Why are you doing this, Sarah?" She couldn't answer and once again cursed inwardly. She desperately wished he was yelling. Anger, although very rare in Chuck's emotional repertoire, she could take. But this tone of hurt and pain…Sarah could feel her heart preparing to shatter.**_

_**Chuck dipped his head, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You told me you loved me, and now you're thinking up every excuse to try and convince me that **_**I**_** don't love **_**you**_**. Considering how many times I've stared various forms of death in the eye, you're gonna have to do better than that." The slightest bit of humor dashed his tone. "News flash, Sarah, I've loved you since the moment you crashed the Nerd Herder down a flight of steps with an insane NSA agent trailing us."**_

_**Sarah laughed weakly, offering out a feeble joke. "Don't let Casey hear you call him that."**_

_**Chuck only shrugged, flashing a grin. "I've called him worse to his face." He turned serious. "I love you, Sarah Walker. Whoever you place before me, I'm still gonna love her. You can give me whatever manufactured pseudonym you want to label yourself, but it's not gonna change the person you show to me. You can't hide that. You can try to mask it, and I've seen you do so, but your true you always shines through." Chuck's voice resonated with such stout fervor, such genuine sincerity that Sarah couldn't help but heed his words. **_

"_**That's who I fell in love with," he stated simply. "That's who I **_**am**_** in love with."**_

"_**I'm enigmatic, Chuck. I'm secretive. You've accused of as much yourself. I haven't had anything remotely stable most of my adult life. Do you honestly know what you're getting into?"**_

_**Chuck halted her with a gentle finger to her lips. "Sarah, I have the entirety of our government's secrets stored within my brain. You're really asking me that question?" She shook her head at the irony, and Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You know, for a woman who's taken down a roomful of armed men, you're really making this a lot more difficult than it really should be."**_

"_**This is one arena I'm completely inexperienced at…" she admitted furtively.**_

"_**And if you can find someone who truly is, I'll let Casey use me as a punching bag…" Chuck shook his head. "No amount of experience in relationships can prepare you for love, Sarah. Each love's unique. That's why it's so great. You're not gonna get the same thing every time." Chuck took her hands, his beautiful brown eyes earnest and warm, and indolently, the thought skated through her mind that she loves those eyes. **_

"_**Stop thinking rationally about this," he reprimanded gently. "It's **_**not**_** rational. You won't be able to reason your way out of what you feel. For once in your life, let go of reservations and just feel."**_

"_**What if I screw this up, Chuck?"**_

_**If Chuck was shocked at the sheer vulnerability prevalent in her tone, he hid it well behind an unapologetic shrug. "We'll fix it together. Take a chance, Sarah."**_

"_**Chances get me killed."**_

"_**And caution stops you from living," Chuck countered. "You've lived your life with structure and rules and superiors telling you what you can and can't do. Forget all that." He inched even closer, almost placing her in his lap. One hand drifted upward, cupping her cheek, ignoring the absolute fear that shone so clear, so lucid in her eyes. **_

"_**Love me," he entreats. "You already know I love you back. What's stopping you?"**_

"_**Fear…uncertainty…"**_

"_**Life's full of fears and uncertainties. Take them head-on the way you do your missions. You gotta believe we can work, Sarah. Even if you believe it's **_**you**_** that's stopping us."**_

_**Acknowledging the fact that reason probably won't completely sway her, he acted on instinct, halting whatever excuse she readied with a kiss. Whatever lingering protest vanished as Sarah tensed, the shivers rollicking up and down her body. The blood pounded in her ears as his lips caressed hers, prompting, convincing, urging her to yield to him. And, for the first time in her life, she acquiesced to emotion. Feeling her go pliant, Chuck deepened the kiss, eliciting a small moan to escape from her vocal chords.**_

_**As they parted, Chuck's harsh breaths provided a steady melody she keeps in time with. She released the desperate grip she has on his hair and retained distance between them, composing herself before looking in his eyes. She saw the love there and heard his sincerity as he whispered one last appeal to her.**_

"_**I love you, Sarah Walker. I truly, deeply, ardently love you, and if you still hold any doubts about anything, know for certain that I mean that. And, if you let me…" Chuck shifted closer, invading her personal space again, and she found she didn't mind one little bit, "I'll make sure you hear that every day I'm with you."**_

_**Not trusting herself to speak, Sarah conveyed her response through actions. Winding her arms around his shoulders, she clambered into his lap and burrowed her face into the crook between his neck and the slope of his shoulder. She couldn't see his face but instinctively, she's positive he's smiling as she wrapped herself around his torso, and rotating slightly, she ghosted a reassuring kiss to his pulse point. Gently, he tipped them over, lying down onto the couch cushions and cradling her against him, and automatically, his body curled over hers. Snuggled into the circle of his arms, she delighted in their flawless fit. Her eyelids leaden with the excitement of what had just transpired, and she slowly began to drift off, the reassuring beat of his heart and his warm breath ghosting in her ears, lulling her to slumber. The sound provided some illogical comfort, and in the depths of her own cold, now just a bit less fractured, heart, she idly ruminated that she could get used to falling asleep to that sound. It's a dangerous thought, one that could possibly compromise everything, but it's a thought that doesn't stay fleeting, and the last sound that perked her ears before she traveled to a world of cogent dreams surely populated with the image of the man beside her was his voice, barely a whisper but ringing as clear as if he had shouted.**_

"_**I'll love you forever, Sarah Walker."**_

Those words have cemented themselves in her brain, and Sarah Walker knew right then and there: she was _so_ screwed.

_And cut! I apologize if this wasn't as blatant as the previous chapter, but this sense was a bit more challenging than I had previously anticipated. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and the next installment will feature the sense of smell. Until next time!_

_Roxy _


	3. Boston's Flora and Nerd Herd Logos

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

_Once again, I am astounded at how much people like this story. One of my friends, who is as fixated with fan fiction as I am, is a lurker down at Television Without Pity and practically dragged me to a computer to check out the comments posted there. So, thank you to those readers down at TWOP! This chapter is by far the hardest to write. Smell is a bit of a pesky sense, but, here is the finished product. It's kinda short, but that's truly a testament to how difficult I found it. Still,__ I hope you all enjoy!_

**Chapter 3**

_Smell_

_Boston's Flora and Nerd Herd Logos_

Chuck Bartowski never thought of himself as an individual with a particularly acute sense of smell. Of course, the most pungent of aromas would pique his synapses, but he never figured himself as one who held the ability to accurately discern and recognize distinct scents. But, as had become habitual with many of his previous routines of daily life, that notion changed the moment one Sarah Walker plopped herself into his life. For some reason, whenever she situated herself within a ten-foot radius of his person, he could pick up on her discrete aroma. She had once joked how insanely perceptive he was when it came to her, and Chuck found he couldn't really deny that fact. It was too true. Every sense in his repertoire held an object reminiscent to the enigmatic beauty from the sight of royal blue to the sound of Arcade Fire, and now a certain scent. At first, he was unsure exactly what he was smelling when she initially walked by, and only after a good hour in the local florist's shop was he able to discern the aroma that wafts through his nostrils. She always smells the same. It's a comforting scent, one that bears a cross between honeysuckle and a magnolia blossom. She doesn't really wear perfume (she explains some of their more treacherous opponents can pick up even the slightest of scents, making perfume an unfortunate hazard), but her shampoo still gives off a distinctly flowery fragrance when she's in close proximity – which, as of recently, has become startlingly often.

He first truly catches her scent the first time she makes an appearance at the Buy More in that ridiculous Wienerlicious uniform complete with pigtails and that absurd hot dog necklace dangling just below her collarbone. She inches closer until her toes brush his, and they're practically sharing breath. That scent surrounds him, encompassing every iota of space in his near vicinity. The sharp intake of breath he was forced to inhale sparks with the same scent, and he almost doesn't hear her entreaty as she inches forward, craning her neck upward. He's forced to stutter out a request for a repeat of her appeal, which she obliges along with an explanation. That scent that lingers in the air only intensifies as he leans down, brushing a quick kiss to her cheek, tantalizing and arousing to his sense of smell, and he knows that any other scent will never be as pleasing to him as that combination

He had once heard that certain animals possess the ability to smell fear, and until the Intersect, he hadn't put too much investment in that notion. But looking into the relentless stare of a treacherous arms dealer who had just thrown a knife dangerously close to the produce section he felt hadn't been sold to its full potential, oh, yeah. He smelled fear. He smelled a whole lotta fear. Alright, so that was his fear. And yes, he was surprised he wasn't smelling something else. But, in his defense, the circumstances were rather harrowing. And he had survived. The more instances he and danger encountered one another, Chuck found that he had quite the proficiency for smelling such fear. Okay, yes, most of the time the fear that piqued his much overlooked sense of smell was _his_ fear, but he was getting better…

Even with the succession of precarious encounters with death and torture beneath his belt, Chuck knew he still wasn't the bravest of individuals. He was well cognizant of the fact that given the opportunity, he would turn tail and bolt with a high-pitched, embarrassingly feminine shriek rather than face down the barrel of the gun – literally and figuratively – but he'd like to think that his rare moments of inexplicable courage came at the most opportune times. One opportune time coming, of course, inadvertently via one Bryce Larkin who lay encased in a chamber Chuck and Sarah misconstrued as a bomb. In those scant seconds counting down to an ambiguous end, Chuck found himself plucking up enough courage to stay with Sarah even as she threatened bodily harm. He chose to stay, and thank the Lord that he did. In her instant of immense frustration, she had squared up to him, that aroma of hers surrounding him even in their moment of ominous apprehension. And as realization of their imminent demise reached both their comprehensions, Sarah had chosen then to plant the best kiss he had ever experienced in their life on his surprised but very willing lips. Even with the unexpected outcome of life, that moment marked a certain catalyst in their unspoken relationship. No matter how both forced themselves to believe otherwise prior to that day, that kiss ignited a fire of passion that had lain dormant – or, in Sarah's case buried very deep beneath the embers – forcing both agent and Intersect to confront the truth: despite what Sarah had divulged before, there was something between them, and after a set of rather damaging obstacles and a few months of dancing around the subject, Chuck and Sarah decide to take the plunge.

Their relationship begins in a tumultuous tempest of vague details, stolen kisses, and hastily divulged feelings, and before Chuck can truly grasp the magnitude of what has transpired between them, they've been dating…or as close to dating as the Intersect would allow…for almost a year and a half, continuing to dodge international criminals and even more suspicious superiors. In stark contrast to the pacing of their fake relationship, however, they skip a few steps with their real one. Considering they've faced arms dealers who've never shown their faces, rogue CIA doctors who planned to deal Chuck to North Korea, their superiors and their vendetta against the human Intersect, a threat of extraction, the resurrection of Sarah's ex, and a misfortunate encounter with Chuck's ex, both figure they're entitled to a bit of a detour from convention. Both rationalize with all those hindrances successfully evaded beneath their belts, a relationship should be no sweat. How hard could it be? But, of course, it's not as easy as their initial perceptions. And, although they are both stubborn to admit it, they've got far more obstacles than the average couple. After all, not many couples can claim a composition of one half CIA agent, one half government secret lockbox…

But they manage to make it work and they do survive. It's a tough survival, but the combination of Sarah and Chuck's collective persistence and their explosive passion facilitates an impressive longevity. They go through a bevy of momentous occasions, but one occasion stays embedded in his mind. The first thing he recalls about that day was a scent. Or, more accurately, a myriad of scents that ingrained themselves in his memory. Pursuit of a subject brought them all the way to the east coast. Boston, to be exact. Following a relatively easy capture, Graham and Beckman allow Chuck, Sarah, and Casey two days to relax before heading back to California. Casey spent most of his time away from the "sickening lovebirds", and Chuck and Sarah stole away to tour the city. The final day brought a surprise for Chuck. It was the day his deepest desire concerning the ambiguity of her past was revealed to him…sort of.

_**Chuck climbed out of the passenger seat of their rented Suburban as Sarah pulled up on a slight cliff that overlooked a group of houses over a gated neighborhood. Immediately, the sharp scent of the floral adornments and the surrounding forestry assaulted his nostrils. The strength of the aroma combined with the unfamiliarity of the contigious climate prompted a monstrous set of sneezes that shook his entire body. Wiping his nose with a tissue, Chuck gazed out into the scene set in his eyesight through slightly watery eyes. **_

"_**Sarah, where are we?"**_

_**Sarah didn't answer for a moment, simply staring out into the expanse. Her eyes settled on an attractive, two-story house straight before them. "This…is my home, Chuck."**_

"_**Your…?" Chuck's brow furrowed as he registered her words. His head whipping back to her source of focus, Chuck released a slight noise of comprehension, "…oooooh."**_

_**Sarah clambered up onto the hood of the Suburban, patting the space beside her. She drew in a deep breath, composing herself as emotions and nostalgic memories that had been buried beneath various aliases and ruses surfaced with the image of her childhood home. "My real name is Kathleen Lisa Montgomery, and I born here," her eyes misted over with nostalgia, and the slight catch in her voice rang barely discernable, "in Boston. And right there in that house."**_

_**Chuck joined her atop the hood, leaning back on his elbows, a teasing lilt to his cocoa eyes as he followed her finger to the structure in question. "That explains your affinity for the Red Sox…" he ruminated aloud, one finger braced lightly against his chin. "And here I thought you were just delusional…"**_

_**Sarah reached out, shoving him lightly but ignoring his jab at her beloved team. "I've lived here all my life. Born here, raised here, alumnus of Boston University…"**_

"_**So how did Kathleen Montgomery, Boston University Terrier become Sarah Walker, CIA agent extreme?"**_

_**Sarah audibly sighed. It had been awhile since those particular memories had been dredged up from the deepest recesses of her mind. "My uncle recruited me. He's a former agent."**_

_**Chuck bit his lip, hesitating before continuing. "This might be grossly out of line, but…your uncle knows what you'd be getting yourself into. Why would he want to recruit you?"**_

_**Sarah shrugged. "My mother had just died, my father wasn't **_**there**_**, and I just didn't know what to do with my life. My uncle had been covertly testing me since high school." Sarah scoffed, a sound that held half derision, half amusement. "Turns out, I was a perfect candidate. The rest is…"**_

_**"History?" Chuck supplied. He squinted at the woman beside him, his tone lightly teasing to lighten the tension her anecdote had drifted over them. "Kinda clichéd, don't you think?"**_

_**The corners of Sarah's mouth pulled as she fought a smile. "I was going to say a file in the Intersect." **_

_**Chuck grinned at her humor, improving every day they've spent together, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned back onto his chest, staring at the home she left what seemed like another lifetime ago. He craned his neck downward, kissing the top of her head, and the fruity scent of her shampoo drifts into his nostrils.**_

_**"Thank you for showing me this," he murmured, pulling her tighter into his embrace. "This means a lot to me."**_

_**Sarah rotated slightly, pressing a kiss to his neck, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now you can't bug me about knowing something real. I've told you my real name, where I grew up, and I don't know how, but you've already finagled my birthday out of someone." Tilting her head up, she gazed into Chuck's brown spheres. "By the way, how **_**did**_** you do that?"**_

_**Chuck only tapped his temple. "Well, you **_**are**_** a file in the Intersect." He shrugged. "Inadvertent flash that last time you were wearing that Red Sox cap during the playoffs." Sarah's nose wrinkled as she remembered the exact moment he was alluding to. Her lucky playoff cap failed to work its magic and her beloved Red Sox fell to Chuck's Yankees in six games in the American League Championship Series. **_

_**Chuck caught her sour look and apologized. "Sorry." The smirk on his face conveyed otherwise, and he continued. "I flashed your recruitment application and training notes. Told me name, birthday, and hometown…"**_

_**"So all of this you already knew," Sarah deduced.**_

_**"Yeah, but it doesn't change how much it means to me that you've brought me out here." Chuck didn't say much else. As he had so many times before, he let his eyes do the talking. "Thank you."**_

_**Sarah, never one to say much at all, only answered, "You're welcome."**_

Chuck wasn't lying when he said that their jaunt to Sarah's hometown meant a lot to him. Sure, he already knew her particulars, but it was a huge step for her to open up with those distinct pieces of information, unprecedented in its magnitude. That moment solidified the commitment Sarah invested in their relationship, and it was a gesture that spoke the enormity of the conviction she held concerning their future. So, conversely, Chuck decides to make a huge step of his own, and with the help of Ellie, Chuck purchases a symbol of ultimate commitment. Now all he has to do is muster up the courage to take the final step.

The day he actually does so comes at a bit of a spontaneous decision. Chuck stirs awake, and her hair tickles his nostrils from its position buried in the crook of his neck. He runs a reverent hand down the smooth expanse of her back, and even in her slumber, Sarah shivers at his touch. With an adorable snuffling noise, she shifts in his arms, spooning back against him. Chuck smiles at the sight. This is the sight he could wake up to every day if he wants. And yes, he does want. He wants so very much. And right then and there, he makes a decision. Moving ever so carefully as not to disturb her – not unexpected but still remarkably easy considering her profession, acutely honed senses, and understandable circumspection – Chuck extracts a small velvet box from beneath his pillow. Popping the lid with one hand, he examines the contents before nodding in satisfaction. It was just how he wanted it to look. Removing the object from its cushion, he takes one last look. Tongue poking slightly from between his teeth, Chuck places it with meticulous care just above her projected eyesight then settles back and waits for her to awaken.

* * *

Sarah Walker is a cautious person by nature. Unfortunately, that natural caution only abetted her remarkable scores on the many tests her uncle covertly posed before her that led to her current profession. And it was that natural caution that had allowed one Sarah Walker to finagle herself out of countless ominous situations. It took quite a person to be able to worm his way close to Sarah Walker. She hardly permitted anyone to break down the guarded walls she had so meticulously constructed to guard her heart. But as she had come to find out, Chuck Bartowski _was_ quite a person.

Out of all his rather appealing qualities, perhaps the most attractive is the comfort Sarah feels every moment in his presence. She remembers that night outside the sushi restaurant the fateful week Ellie experienced an inadvertent brush with Chuck's second of two lives. With his surprisingly strong arms wrapped around her waist, the soft linen of his shirt and the feel of his smooth, slightly stubbled chin beneath her temple, Sarah found her sense of smell pleasantly assaulted with Chuck's scent, and it was a scent that provided a weird comfort. He bears a unique fragrance…nothing really exotic in all actuality, just a mixture of the Irish Spring soap he uses and a subtle Ralph Lauren cologne, but one that strangely sent her pulse racing just a bit faster.

It is in that combination that Sarah experiences the weirdest sensation of comfort the first time she awakens wrapped up in sheets that smelled of him. She returns to the world of wakeful consciousness with her nose in a pillow that filters that scent straight to her leisurely rousing brain. Immediately, she observes his presence slumbering beside her, the angry shine of a bruise, a last remnant of their latest bout with the Intersect, peeking through the gap between the linens pulled up to his eye line and the curls poofing skyward. He insisted that she stay the night rather than drive all the way back to her apartment, and she readily agreed. Stirring slightly, she notices her clothes from the night before folded neatly on top of his dresser, and her focus shifts to her current state of dress. She's clad in one of his shirts, a well-loved black and white baseball tee with the Nerd Herd logo emblazoned across the chest that falls to mid-thigh and a pair of plain black boxers. That smell is also ingrained in the fabric of those garments. Pulling the sheets just a tad bit tighter around her body, Sarah is once again assaulted with the spring scent and the musky cologne, and she notices the fragrance remains in the shirt and shorts. A quick once-over deems this ensemble infinitely more comfortable than her previous sleepwear, and Sarah conveniently forgets to return the shirt as she gathers her things with a quick kiss to his forehead and a note telling him she's left for her shift at Wienerlicious.

Over the next few months, she covertly filches a few of his shirts to sleep in so that comfort she experiences whenever she catches his smell can follow her to the land of unconsciousness. Of course, he eventually notices and accuses her of the transgression, which she responds to with a coy grin and shrug. It's not until he spends a night at her apartment that he realizes exactly where those missing t-shirts have disappeared to. It seems as though someone has swapped her normal sleepwear of boy shorts and tank tops for a small collection of worn out t-shirts displaying logos such as Star Wars, Transformers, and various Nintendo games that used to decorate his closet but now reside in hers, and he says as much. Again, she unapologetically shrugs, stating simply that they smell like him. He only laughs, cocking an eyebrow and stating at least he has something to sleep in when he stayed over. She throws him one of his shirts and warns him that she knows where he lives if he feels the temptation to steal any of his shirts back. He only lofts his hands skyward in a gesture of surrender.

They stay over at her place more than they do the apartment to avoid Casey's pesky bugs, and it becomes their haven of comfort. This is where Chuck and Sarah are not the Intersect and Agent Walker. This is the place where they can divulge information about the past, where they can openly profess affection and emotions, where they can simply exist as Chuck and Sarah, two people hopelessly in love. This place becomes their world, their present and everywhere else simply exists outside of it. And that apartment becomes the convergence into something a bit more significant than just handler and asset.

Sarah's eyes flutter open, and she is greeted with the familiar sight of her apartment. Just like any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary. She cranes her head slightly upward towards the morning sunlight filtering through the slightly cracked blinds, blinking owlishly to clear the fog. Immediately, she registers the freshly laundered smell of the sheets, the warmth of his embrace, and the delicious feel of his bare skin against hers. She buries her nose into the pillow and delights in his scent mixed with hers. It comforts her in an inexplicable manner, and she lets out a contented sigh. As she returns her gaze to its previous level, a glint catches her eye. Well, that's different. Her brow furrowing, she raises her head to better see the source of the sparkle that she thinks she comprehends correctly but doesn't wish to get her hopes too high concerning its identity and its meaning. But as she grasps the innocently gleaming object between her thumb and forefinger, her breath shudders to a halt in her lungs because it's exactly what she thought it was and it means exactly what she thinks it means.

Oh, boy.

One large hand covers hers, plucking the magnificent diamond ring from her fingers, and the hand drifts down, the ring poised on the brink of eclipsing the invisible line that would slip the band on her finger. His scent is now tangibly present rather than lingering. Despite the soaring through her stomach and heart, she tenses as she feels his breath at her ear.

"Marry me."

Her answer isn't vocalized. She just shifts her hand forward, allowing the band of the ring to encircle the tip of her finger. His hand guides the ring the rest of the way until its settles on its appropriate place just above the knuckle. Sarah rotates in his arms, her eyes conveying her joy as she grasps the curly strands of his hair, crushing her lips to his. With each subsequent kiss, they both can hear the unspoken answer.

Yes.

_And cut! Whew, halfway done! Once again, thank you very much for the feedback. I really appreciate it all, compliments and criticisms. As with many writers, I just wish to entertain and hone the craft so all feedback helps! I know this chapter jumped the gun a bit in terms of a timeline, but I still hope it maintained the theme of progression I've been aiming for. I admit, this was the hardest chapter to write, and I'm not too sure about the pacing and transitions…but, eh. If I thought any more about this chapter, I had a feeling I wouldn't be satisfied. I hope this is sufficient. Next up is taste, which I had a lot of fun with..._

_As a side note, I was wondering if anyone knew how old Chuck and Ellie were when their mother left them as it's a fact I need for a future chapter. I've watched all the episodes, and maybe I just missed that tidbit, but I'm still not sure. So if anyone knows (or perhaps the show hasn't stated specifically) that would be great. Until next time!_

_Roxy_


	4. Chivalry, Classifications, and Casey

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

_Okay, after the relative difficulty of smell, I revert to the relative ease of taste. I must admit, I had fun with this chapter, and as an added bonus, a bit of Casey's perspective is thrown in. So, I give you this installment to enjoy. It's gonna get downright sexy in these next installments, so have fun!_

**Chapter 4**

_Taste_

_Chivalry, Classifications, and Casey_

As with any honest being, Chuck Bartowski sees the value of the kiss. Sure, there are much more satisfying ways for couples to express affection, but Chuck had always put most of his stock into kisses. Kisses were the first foray into any kind of meaningful connection, and anyone can attest that the first kiss is always the best kiss. The rest were just means of…procedure, no less passionate or meaningful, but simply less…momentous. The first time they kiss, he has very little time to truly register the moment. With his eyes squeezed shut, bracing himself for his imminent demise, Chuck fails to see the scant moment of indecision, conscientiously weighing her options before she quite literally pounces on him, and her lips are on his. But he can taste her. Good Lord can he taste her. Her tongue probes insistently at his lips, and he obliges to her request, opening up to allow her access. Her taste surrounds him, sending his sensitized synapses, fueled with adrenaline, into overdrive, and it takes him only a tenth of a heartbeat to respond. He pours everything in that kiss knowing there's a finality to their situation. Everything he's wanted to tell her, every desire he holds deep within, he conveys in that single moment. That single, explosive – no pun intended – moment where they aren't labeled by the CIA and the NSA as asset and agent. They are two people taking that tentative jaunt into the significant first – and sadly last – connection.

Even as they don't meet their imminent demise that day at the pier, the details of that kiss fail to expunge themselves from his memory. Everything swirls within his conscious mind in a myriad of indistinct emotions and sharply focused minutiae. He recalls the sight before him in that chamber within the crate, the blinking digits as they meander down to zero, the anxiety as the Intersect fails to flash on the object before them, and…Sarah's taste. That agonizingly sinful, delicious taste that filtered through his taste buds and straight into his brain sending his already frazzled state plummeting to the darkness of tempestuous paradise. He recalls yanking her even tighter to his body refusing to release her, and all he wants is more. More of that sweet, illicit taste, more of her probing tongue and caressing lips, more of _right now_. He remembers wishing that time could halt and offer him the luxury of staying in this moment, and vaguely he wonders if there is a heaven and if there is, is this it? Their kiss slows to its excruciating conclusion, and he struggles to catch his breath that still filters through his lungs, a distinct reminder of his current state of living. Both pairs of eyes flick to the supposed bomb, the zeroes across the panel mocking them without the construed explosion. It wasn't quite the circumstances under which a normal first kiss would occur, but that still didn't erase the significance. It was just as momentous, serving as the catalyst that forced one CIA agent and one intelligence asset to face what they – well, at least one of them – had been avoiding all this time: the truth.

As they eventually face the truth and get together – after a good year of dancing around the subject – they find that they are still faced with even more obstacles, one of which involves evading the knowing stares of one John Casey and the ever watchful eyes of General Beckman and Director Graham. But, they manage to emerge relatively unscathed until they are faced with perhaps the most irksome obstacle of all, one that struck them as unexpectedly as Bryce's resurrection: Jillian Hawthorne, Chuck's infamous ex.

_**As Chuck strolled down the busy sidewalk of the city, his mind drifted away to thoughts of Sarah. They had been officially dating for almost three months, and, remarkably, the only person who had caught on to the change in their relationship status was Casey. Even more surprising to the couple was that he turned a blind eye to the development. Chuck absently ran a hand through his hair and scratched the stubble dusting his chin and cheeks. Even with the euphoria a relationship with Sarah elicited, the nagging voice warned him that this certainly wouldn't last, especially if the higher ups in Washington caught wind. Then what? With his mind so preoccupied on the dilemma presenting itself, Chuck failed to notice the person before him until their imminent collision.**_

"_**Oh, I'm so sorry…" Chuck trailed off as the being before him prompted a very dull **_**thunk**_** to resonate through the area where he thought his stomach existed. Every day for five years, this image materialized in his brain, swinging a sledge hammer that struck with titanic force right at the crux of his heart. Every day, he labored to erase this sight from his mind but found he couldn't. So when the vision he had long banished from his consciousness materialized in a physical form before his very eyes, Chuck forgot to breathe for the barest of moments, and everything registered with distinct clarity into his brain. He saw her tall, statuesque form, just a bit shorter than Sarah. Her flowing light brown hair still tumbled down her back in gentle waves. Her jade green eyes peered into his with an expression tinged with both surprise and hesitation. And he was yanked back to a time where everything was so much simpler and the future so much more certain.**_

"_**Chuck…" Her melodic voice hadn't changed since the last time he heard it, moaning Bryce's name minutes before he burst into her room to surprise her.**_

_**He didn't wish to actually respond, for fear that such an act would bring the painful reality of her presence to the forefront of his consciousness, but his mouth rebelled, automatically answering as vocal chords expelled the name that had brought so much emotion from all sides of the known gamut to his sentient body. "Jill…"**_

_**His fight or flight instinct activated the moment she approached, his mind propelling him towards the latter, yet conversely chastising him for even thinking of such a thing, and common courtesy kicked in…very painfully. He forced a smile – one that he hoped didn't look as pained as it felt – and offered out pleasantry, "Wow, it's…" Chuck swallowed the crack in his voice in an effort to maintain equanimity. "It's been awhile."**_

_**Jill nodded, her top teeth worrying her lip, and an idle thought skated through his mind that at least she was just as uncomfortable as he was. "Yeah…uh, how have you been?"**_

_**Chuck wasn't quite sure how to respond to that question. Surely, she knew just how miserable he had been considering that disastrous senior year. Still, he went with a conventional response. "I've been good…"**_

"_**Yeah…I haven't heard from you since Stanford…" Jill trailed off as she realized the idiocy of that statement and she glanced away before moving to safer territory.**_

"_**So what are you doing now? You know, job wise? School wise?"**_

_**This question, unlike years past, now gave him a certain pride as the CIA finally acknowledged his worth and allotted him a bit of compensation for having both the Alpha and Beta versions of the Intersect in his brain. **_

"_**I've got a start-up company in the works," he answered. Chuck grinned sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. "Slaving away at the Buy More's Nerd Herd counter until it gets more stable footing though."**_

"_**Wow, that's great." Jill seemed to hesitate before she offered out her next query. "So how about the love life? Are you seeing anyone?"**_

"_**Uh, well…" Chuck stuttered through the answer. No matter the target, Chuck Bartowski was still a gentleman, and gentlemen do not rub current, very successful, very passionate, very **_**satisfying**_** relationships in their conniving ex's faces. Luckily, as she had done so many times prior, Sarah emerged just in the nick of time to save his sorry ass.**_

"_**Chuck, honey, I'm so sorry!" Her voice cut through the din of chatter surrounding him, and he released a sigh of relief. "The meeting ran late, and you know how Dr. Richards tends to go on about the Rational Choice Theory…" **_

_**Sending up a hasty, thankful prayer up to the higher powers, Chuck rotated to face his rapidly approaching girlfriend, his lofty frame obscuring Jill from view. **_

_**Before he could caution Sarah of their unexpected companion, he tasted her. Leaning up, she captured his lips in a long, welcoming kiss, effectively stealing the warning from his lungs. As was the case with their many kisses, this one consumed his functioning processes, and he relinquished the potentially precarious situation before them for the sensations siphoned through their connection. As tip of her tongue slipped ever-so between his parted lips, offering him a taste of her fruity lip gloss, Chuck lost all semblance of thought, sending him spiraling into a dazed state of bliss. **_

_**As they parted, Sarah stepped back, composing herself. Flashing a grin, she ran her hands up the planes of his chest. "Sorry. Needed an outlet. You know how frustrating those meetings can be."**_

_**Chuck couldn't quite answer as he steadied his breath, struggling for coherency as he forced his brain to orient itself in order to facilitate a sufficient warning for Sarah. "No problem, babe," he forced out weakly. "I have no qualms whatsoever towards that form of venting."**_

_**Chuckling at the feeble response, Sarah allowed her palms to drift down as she fixed the slightly askew condition of his wardrobe, smoothing out the collar of the button-down shirt that showcases his surprisingly chiseled pectoral muscles and well-developed forearms. "I'll make it up to you later." She winked, the gesture heavy with connotation. "Promise…" Glancing over his shoulder, Sarah finally caught a glimpse of their third party watching the scene with wide, reticent eyes, and she shot him an admonishing glance. "Chuck, why didn't you tell me you had company?"**_

_**Finally achieving a state of orientation, Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You mean between you rambling out an apology and kissing me?" Chuck chided her with a shake of his head. "Sorry, but I don't talk that fast." He maintained that grin as he ducked, aptly dodging a well-aimed swipe from his girlfriend.**_

"_**Excuse him," Sarah apologized, facing the woman. "Even with his impeccable upbringing, he can still be a big oaf." Sarah stuck her hand out. "Sarah Walker, Chuck's girlfriend."**_

"_**Jillian Hawthorne."**_

_**Sarah didn't respond, only giving a slight nod of acknowledgement, and Chuck knew she was sizing up the other woman. After a moment, she flashed a deceptively innocent smile, and Chuck fought the urge to smirk. "Nice to meet you. Chuck's told me so much about you."**_

_**Jill gave an embarrassed cough, catching the underlying implication behind the statement. "Well…I hope it wasn't too damaging."**_

"_**Oh, no," Sarah assured her, the mischievous glint almost blinding in her deep blue eyes. Chuck was amazed at how she kept up the façade of sweet girl when he knew how much she longed to give Jill a piece of her mind…or the business end of one of her throwing knives.. **_

"_**You know how Chuck is," Sarah divulged as though the two women were sharing an intimate secret. "Chivalrous to the end. Even to those who don't deserve it."**_

_**Chuck fought a chuckle. There surely wasn't any woman like one Sarah Walker. Even in these moments away from their second occupation, Sarah still protected him with the same fierceness and sting of a CIA agent.**_

"_**Yeah…" Jill murmured. "Uh, so how did you two meet?"**_

"_**Ironically through Bryce Larkin," Sarah responded, and she took slight pleasure at seeing Jill's noticeable wince. **_

"_**Really…"**_

"_**Bryce and I used to work together back east through separate branches," Sarah explained. "He was part of the accounting department and I was part of the legal department, but my job forced a transfer to here. I didn't now anyone in the area, but luckily, Bryce sent me right to Chuck." Sarah looked to the man in question, the meaning clear in her eyes. "Couldn't thank him enough…"**_

"_**How nice…" Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Jill made a show of checking her watch before turning back to the couple. "Uh, I should go. I have a meeting with a realtor I have to get to."**_

_**Fear gripped his heart, and Chuck's eyes widened. "You're moving here?"**_

_**Jill shook her head, hastening to amend her statement. "Oh, no. My grandmother lived here, and she died a few years ago. We're making arrangements with her house."**_

"_**Oh." Chuck's more than relieved at the lack of the discomfort of another meeting, but still imparts a polite farewell. "Er…it was nice seeing you, Jill…"**_

"_**You too, Chuck," Jill answered, albeit a bit meekly. "Nice meeting you, Sarah. You know you're a lucky woman."  
Sarah's response was simple but held the weight of a much lengthier rejoinder. "I do."**_

_**Before she departed, Jill rotated back, wringing her hands anxiously. "Chuck, I really am sorry about…you know."**_

_**Chuck's surprised at the apology, almost a decade in the works, but the answer he provided was sincere. "It's okay, Jill. I'm good now." His eyes flicked towards Sarah, and his face softened to an expression of the utmost affection. **_

_**Jill tensed, the look on his fascia almost foreign with the magnitude of emotion behind it. He had never looked at her the way he did Sarah and it was dual parts relieving and saddening. **_

"_**I'm really good," Chuck assured her. "No reason to hold onto something that's no longer important."**_

"_**Right…" There was a touch of begrudging acceptance on Jill's face, as though the true realization of what she had passed up on had just registered within her mind. Hefting a barely discernable sigh, she forced out a smile. "Well, goodbye, Chuck. I hope life's good for you."**_

"_**Thanks, Jill. You too." Chuck's eyes followed her as she disappeared down the street, a contemplative glint to his sepia spheres before they reverted their attention back to the woman beside him. "Well…that…was sufficiently awkward."**_

"_**So that's the infamous Jill," Sarah mused.**_

"_**Yep," Chuck quirked an ironic smile. "Not the only time Bryce got the girl…Lucky guy."**_

"_**Oh, I don't know about that," Sarah responded. "After all, he never really **_**kept**_** the girl."**_

_**Chuck gazed into her eyes, and with that smile of his, he leaned in brushing the barest of kisses across her lips. He tasted of coffee and the peppermint gum he tended to chew while constructing his latest idea for software. "I guess you're right…" **_

_**Chuck rotated, heading in the direction of the restaurant, reaching down to lace his fingers through hers. "You know, I meant what I said." When Sarah gave him a blank stare and a slight shake of her head in confusion, Chuck clarified, "When I said I'm okay with everything that happened between Bryce and Jill."**_

"_**Even when you're not sure of the motivation?"**_

"_**It's the oldest motivation in the book, Sarah," Chuck deadpanned. "But yeah, I'm okay with it." He lifted his head, allowing his senses to absorb the world around him, a bigger part of the reality he had built for himself when the plan he had originally constructed hadn't quite made it to fruition. "I'm good. Really good."**_

_**Sarah tugged on his hand, forcing him to stop before pulling him back and wrapping her arms around him, ignoring the bustle of activity that milled around them. All she saw was the man before her. "So am I, Chuck. So am I."**_

As he thinks of the memory, Chuck realizes he honestly spoke the truth. He had let go of Bryce and Jill and their nefarious fling. Even as he didn't quite know if the true motivation was the product of the age-old adage of lust or another one of Bryce's well-meaning schemes to protect him from the CIA (little good that did and it's not like he can actually ask the man). But, Chuck realizes that it frankly doesn't matter. Whatever the motivation, it brought him to the present, a present that included Sarah Walker in his life. So, in actuality, those events weren't that damaging. Just…traumatic.

* * *

The first time they kiss without the threat of their imminent demise, he initiates it. It's a bit of an uncharacteristic move that he asserts himself, but _wow_, does it ever pay off. With his nerdy tendencies and slightly bumbling nature, Sarah never got an indication of how good a kisser Chuck Bartowski was. But in an unhurried, and certainly not dangerous situation, Chuck Bartowski showed Sarah Walker just how good this nerd could kiss. His tongue swept against hers, treating her to a wickedly delicious mix of cinnamon and dark chocolate. His lips slowly devoured her, alternating deep, soulful with teasing, sensual nips. Had his sturdy arms not held her so possessively, his large palms not supporting the back of her head and splayed against her back, she would have surely slumped to the ground with the sensations assaulting every inch of her sensitized body. And in one conscious that flashed absently in her semi-cognizant mind before fleeing with the rest of her coherency once Chuck's blunt teeth nibbled deliciously against her bottom lip, Sarah idly ruminated that she didn't want to stop kissing Chuck. Ever.

Over time, that notion solidifies itself in Sarah's beliefs as Chuck's kisses become more and more frequent with each passing day. Those kisses were her new drug, even more thrilling than her occupation and leaps and bounds more intoxicating than Bryce's had ever been, admittedly to her surprise. She had gotten accustomed to his taste, drinking it in like an ambrosia sent from the gods. She had come to long for his unique flavor that always seemed to combine something spicy with something sweet. And in her mind, she comprehends the danger that accompanies this surreptitious addiction. She knows very well this goes against every statute in the handbook, and if they do get caught…well, the consequences sure didn't include a simple slap on the wrist. But as she steels herself, promising the nagging little birdie occupying her shoulder that this time is the last time, those earnest eyes peer into hers, those full lips form that adorably dorky grin, and she tastes that intoxicating combination of dark chocolate and cinnamon. Oh, man, she is _so_ screwed. As loud as that birdie screams its protests, Sarah can't bring herself to reject him. And she doesn't think she ever really wants to.

As their relationship begins to truly roam into dangerous territory, Sarah also finds how surprisingly proficient Chuck is with his kisses. Despite his claim about being uncomfortable with PDA's, Chuck always greets her with a kiss, and she's come to categorize his kisses into distinct classifications. There's the "Hello" kiss, a mere peck of the lips that sends those annoying (okay, not _annoying_) butterflies fluttering through her stomach. There's the "I've had a shitty day at work, please let me release some of the tension" kiss, an aggressive plundering of her mouth that weakens her knees and sends her pulse racing to a brisk staccato. There's the exuberant "I survived my eight-hour shift without getting reamed out by Big Mike or blown up by an international terrorist" kiss, a sloppy, wet, ardently erratic succession that elicits an uncharacteristic set of girlish giggles with its enthusiasm. And then there's just The Kiss. It doesn't come very often and most of the time it comes at the most spontaneous moment, but Sarah finds that she likes this kiss most of all. It's slow and satisfying and utterly arousing in its intensity that begins reticent but slowly builds to a pinnacle of fervent ardor before crashing them both back down to the surface, leaving them panting and wild-eyed. Chuck slowly, methodically engulfs her lips in those instances, sweeping her mouth with a skilled tongue and delectable taste, and the reaction it educes is a mixture of all his kisses. Sarah isn't quite sure what brings about The Kiss, but all she knows is that it's a sure-fire way for innocent kisses to lead to something much more of the adult nature. So when Chuck gazes at her with those bottomless brown eyes sparkling with intentions that are surely hazardous to her health, she can only yield because the taste of him is too intoxicating to walk away from. Yep, she'll repeat that again: she is so _screwed_.

* * *

From his apartment, John Casey peers through the cracked blinds that afford him a view of the courtyard. He's come to know their routine very well, and this is about the time they would return from a romantic dinner. Predictability is a dangerous entity in the espionage world, but he suspects they would plead abetting of their cover if he ever accuses them of as much. He slowly begins a countdown from ten, and right on cue, Bartowski and Walker emerge from beneath the archway. Their joined hands swing lazily with each step they take into the courtyard. Bartowski's got that idiotic grin on his face, and he gestures animatedly with his free hand as he talks. Walker's eyes light up with laughter at something Bartowski has said, and she rotates to face him, tugging on his hand until he comes to a stop before her. Bartowski's grin widens as he winds his arms around her waist, and she loops hers around his neck. They're both still grinning as Bartowski leans forward, touching his forehead to hers before kissing her, dipping Walker back slightly. They're so engrossed in one another that both probably wouldn't notice if bombs were raining down upon them. He should report them, he really should, but then his mind reverts back to one instance where he fell victim to Bartowski's earnest affability and enthusiastic propensity to help others. And begrudgingly, he remembers how Bartowski brought him back to her. _Ilsa_. His Ilsa. Bartowski allowed him his time so he's gonna allow them theirs. As Bartowski and Walker disappear into the adjoining apartment, Casey's eyes drift shut, taking him back to that moment. That agonizingly bittersweet moment where he and Ilsa shared one last kiss. One of their many kisses, but one that had a sort of finality to it. He can still see her lithe, elegant form as she sauntered through the archway. He can still hear her husky, sensuous voice still ringing in his ears. He could still smell the light spice of her perfume. He can still taste her.

Reclining in his easy chair in boxers and bare chested, John Casey raises a fist wrapped around the neck of good ole Jim Beam, and before he takes a pull of the whiskey, he proposes a silent toast to Walker and Bartowski. He's cynical so his thinking is that their relationship is doomed. The superiors will catch wind and yank them apart faster than he draws a gun. Then, his ass will get canned for harboring such a secret. But the time those two have together is gonna be one for the ages. The type of epic romance novels are written after. So, John Casey's gonna give them their due while it lasts. After all, he got his. Tipping his head back, Casey allows the liquid to travel down his throat, and the last thing that registers through his stupored mind is the taste of good ole Jimmy.

_And cut! Hope you liked the special appearance of Casey. I figured this chapter would tie in very well with his own impressive romance since the last interaction between Casey and his epic lady love is a rather hot kiss. Anyway, the next chapter is touch. I must warn all of you with delicate sensibilities that this chapter will stray a bit more to the M rating for reasons that will be obvious once you read the chapter. The next chapter will also touch on what exactly happened when Graham and Beckman found out about Chuck and Sarah. It's gonna be a doozy! Until next time!_

_Roxy_


	5. Satin Sheets and Dangerous Liasons

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing_

_And we reach the fifth chapter of touch. This story's almost over! As a warning to those of delicate sensibilities, this chapter alludes to mature activities that are not explicitly stated, but are pretty much put out there, so continue at your own risk! Only one more chapter left, folks. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 5**

_Touch_

_Satin Sheets and Dangerous Liasons_

It's been awhile. Almost three years to the day, but he can safely say that he can't live without her touch, nor can he bear the thought of such a possibility. Sure, he rationalizes, given her occupation, it's always a possibility. After all, he's still the Intersect, the nation's greatest intelligence asset, and she's still his protector, only with more benefits.

In the beginning, they communicate through simple, unobtrusive touches. They start small. She fixes his tie; he zips up the back of her dress. She'll mess up his hair teasingly; he'll lay a hand on the small of her back he guides her through doorways. Over time, those touches get bolder. He'll lazily drag his fingers down the slope of her shoulders as she coyly asks him to tie the halter strings of her dress; she'll allow her fingers to slip, undoing a button (or two) of the button-down shirts he's fond of, leaving his leanly muscled skin to the mercy of her fingertips. They're flirting with disaster, but the invigorating sensation elicited by the simplest of touches is too addicting to ignore, and with a conscious breath, both find themselves yanked over the fine line between their cover and dangerous territory.

Their first time making love without the cloud of their assumed cover hovering over their heads is far from the idealistic, romanticized version most expect. They tumble down onto the satin sheets of her bed, limbs tangled and lips perusing for contact. She lands atop of him, but with a well-timed move, he flips her beneath him, covering her body with his. For once, she yields control to him after a brief struggle, and he resists the urge to grin. This is his territory, and he'll be damned if he's not gonna take advantage of this rare instance of submission. Their coupling is far from a tender joining of two souls amidst the candlelit background of an amorous setting, it's urgent and it's intense. But Chuck wouldn't want it any other way. He is cognizant of the fact that they can't afford the slow, old-fashioned pace their fake relationship permitted. Because he knows that if Beckman or Graham ever caught any indication of exactly how well the Intersect and were abiding by their cover story, Sarah would be reassigned to a location as far from the Intersect as humanly possible. So they forgo romance for urgency.

The slide of her bare skin against his, the pressure of her fingertips as they tighten in his hair with each stroke of his lips against every inch of her skin, the delicious scrape of her fingernails as they rake down his back when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, all invade the sense siphoned from his touch. He loves how she arches beneath his fingertips as they trail down the length of her toned body and over the planes of that abdomen bared to his smoldering gaze. He relishes in the breathy whisper of his name expelled in gasping anticipation from her lips as his tongue traced lazy circles across her torso. He delights in the wave of goose bumps rippling across her skin in the wake of his wandering lips as he ventures to more adventurous territory. He spends most of that first time acquainting himself with her likes and dislikes, cementing them into his conscious mind for future use because – and he refused to think otherwise – this would not be a one-time occurrence, and with the studious nature that had granted him valedictorian status and surely a magna cum laude had he graduated from Stanford, Chuck had come to find out what exactly Sarah's partial to. Like how a slight suckling at her clavicle prompted a keening whimper or how a teasing nip at the juncture of her hip and thigh elicited a rather primal growl. And Chuck finds just how responsive her neck was to his nomadic tongue and curious teeth.

They deftly hop over the numerous obstacles that throw themselves in their path, each vexing in its own respect. But the greatest obstacle comes when their superiors become aware of their illicit liaison as a roomful of CIA and NSA operatives witness Sarah rushing into the dingy, run-down cell where Fulcrum has kept Chuck captive for the last day and a half, flinging herself into his arms, and capturing his lips in a kiss. And perhaps that wasn't the most prudent of decisions because that moment of rational abandonment has made its way back to Graham and Beckham. By this time, their precarious situation has become even more complicated. Due to his success as well as Casey's immense hesitation in killing him, Chuck has become a full-time analyst, harboring both the Alpha and Beta versions of the Intersect in his head as well as a bevy of skills that, if he ever wished to be certified, would put him among the ranks of a fairly capable field agent. So when Graham and Beckman ship Team Bartowski all the way to Washington, the collective outlook is simple: they are _fucked_.

_**Director Graham ushered the motley crew of Chuck, Sarah, and Casey into his office where General Beckman already waited, slamming the door shut. Whirling back around, Graham wasted no time rounding on his three operatives, a palpable fire burning in his coal eyes. Both Chuck and Casey were considered extremely tall men at six-three and six-four respectively, but Graham still had another inch and a half on Casey. Even with the slight height difference, the irate director seemed to tower infinitely over the two men. Casey met Director Graham's glower with a glare of his own while Chuck wavered slightly, but managed to meet the glower with a hesitant stare. Sarah, on the other hand, allowed her gaze to dart from one ambiguous point to another, anywhere other than her superior's penetrating gaze hovering on the brink of a massive explosion.**_

_**"Agent Walker, you have recklessly compromised your objectivity towards the asset with your actions. You give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you yanked from the assignment and sent to Uzbekistan!" Graham's deep voice, made even deeper with his irate growl, boomed through the room. **_

"_**And you, Bartowski," Graham snarled, bearing down on the Intersect, "don't think the thought hasn't crossed my mind about locking you up in an eight-by-ten cell somewhere in the armpits of this country with nothing but silence to keep you company! So someone better give me a damned good reason why I shouldn't follow through with either of these options!"**_

_**Chuck audibly gulped, his eyes flitting from Graham to Sarah. The inevitable question lingered on his tongue. What was going to happen to them? They knew the consequences, but had recklessly eschewed the possibility for something a bit more…real. Now, the decision was up to Graham. The fear they had invariably harbored from the beginning of their torrid romance but pushed away had now surfaced to the forefront. The threat of either his relocation or Sarah's reassignment now hung palpable in the tensed atmosphere.**_

_**"Agent Walker?" Graham bit out with forced patience.**_

_**"Because, sir," Sarah responded. "Chuck keeps me sane."**_

_**Their superiors didn't answer for the longest moment, and Sarah surged on. "I was very close to losing it," she confessed. "I've spent most of my adult life doing my duty to this country without a place I could call home, and I understand that is what I agreed to give up for this job, but…" Sarah didn't have to continue. Even Beckman and Graham could understand where she was heading. They had all been there. Sometimes, the job was just too much. **_

_**Sarah ducked her head, seemingly gathering herself before she raised it again, her piercing blue eyes conveying the certainty she was now forced to vocalize. "My job has involved taking lives without so much as a second thought. But now…I'm not going to deny it hasn't affected me. There are days where I can't avoid the guilt and the memories and the anxiety knowing that I was responsible for the death of so many people. But being with Chuck has changed all that, and I know that I can do that part of my job without reservations because I can come back to him and just be normal. Otherwise, the weight of all these deaths…" Sarah trailed off, leaving the insinuation unspoken.**_

"_**This job has been…**_**is**_**…my life," Sarah confessed. "But I'm afraid that it's taking away part of my humanity. Chuck gives me that tiny semblance of normality I'm looking for in order to keep myself human. I understand my actions are deemed extremely unprofessional, but I refuse to label them as a mistake."**_

_**Graham was silent for a moment before turning to Chuck. "Bartowski, do you have anything to add?"**_

_**"Me?" Chuck jerked, surprised that the director addressed him. "I…uh, well…" Scratching the back of his head, Chuck collected his thoughts for a moment before simply responding, "I fell in love with Sarah, sir, and I'm not going to apologize for that."**_

_**A furrow appeared in Graham's brow, the candor of Chuck's reply ostensibly throwing the man for a moment. Graham seemed to ponder his next words before posing a question to Sarah. "Agent Walker, if I were to reassign you, what would be your course of action?"**_

_**Sarah swallowed hard, and the turmoil flashed prevalent in her eyes. She had no doubts of her intentions should such an instance occur, but it was the actual act of vocalizing those intentions that provided a slight stumble. She felt a touch at her side, and turning her head, she met Chuck's earnest brown gaze. His hand slipped into hers, squeezing gently, inexplicably providing the reassurance she needed. Finally, she steeled herself, looking Graham straight in the eye. "I would resign, sir." Sarah paused, inadvertently allowing the words to sink in. Finally, she continued, the emotion ubiquitous in her slightly wavering voice. "For so long, I have placed this job and this country before myself. But I believe my feelings for Chuck have become more important."**_

_**Graham contemplated her answer, his eyes flicking to their joined palms before glancing over to Beckman. The general had stayed silent the entire exchange as Chuck and Sarah's actions fell more under the jurisdiction of her colleague than her own. However, both Sarah and Chuck could sense the tiniest bit of sympathy shining through the normally stoic general as she gave a slight nod of concurrence. Taking Beckman's miniscule reaction into account, Graham returned his attention to the pair in question. **_

"_**Agent Walker, not only are your actions forbidden by Agency sanction, they are inexcusable and utterly unprofessional and, had they distracted you during any crucial points in a mission, they could have been dangerous to the asset," Graham rebuked, not bothering to even attempt to veil the severity in his tone. Sarah refused to bow her head. She stood by her assertion. What had happened between her and Chuck was prohibited, yes, but she would never deem it a mistake. Not again.**_

_**Graham noticed her staunch refusal to yield to his chastisement, and a flash of respect skated across his features before he resumed his distinct scowl. "However, you did not allow your feelings for the asset to deter any of your mission objectives. In fact, it seems as though they facilitated each completion." Graham paused, a pained expression tightening his face as though he truly despised what he was about to say next, and the words filtered out, tinged with potent reluctance. "Therefore, you will stay as a part of this operation but you are relegated to primarily an analyst position. You will provide an outside authority in coordinating the various missions the Intersect identifies and will **_**occasionally**_**," Graham stressed the term, "assist in the completion." Graham rotated to his desk, plucking a file from the surface. "But, Agent Walker, do not think your actions will go unpunished. You will undergo six months of probation, and if I see that you are not performing your duties in a suitable manner, there **_**will**_** be consequences," as Sarah opened her mouth to protest, Graham silenced her with a harsh look. "This is non-negotiable."**_

_**He returned his attention to the file in his hand. "I will assign another agent to fill your position. Considering your relationship with the asset, having you as Bartowski's primary handler will provide a bit of a delicate situation." **_

_**Sarah didn't respond verbally, only nodded, the exuberance clear in her sapphire eyes even as she kept a stoic mask slightly tinged with regret at her demotion, and she felt a squeeze from the hand clasped in hers. **_

"_**As for your cover job," Graham flipped a page in the folder, "I will set up a position for you as a graduate assistant to a trusted CIA operative at UCLA in the criminology department. You will be under the guise of working towards your PhD in criminology. There will be ample assets that will assist you in your analysis work."**_

_**"And Chuck?" Sarah ventured.**_

_**"Bartowski will stay as he is," Graham assured her. "But we will be making a few changes concerning his current arrangements. First, he will be made a field agent. He's proved himself to be proficient enough, and it will provide us with a more direct link to the Intersect's inner workings." A disparaging look materialized across Graham's face as he sifted through the appropriate paperwork. "That will placate my superiors for now. Secondly, assuming you and Bartowski are choosing to continue your relationship and will be living together," Sarah responded with a slightly incredulous nod, "we will have to move you two to a secure location easy to monitor. Preferably a house in a neighborhood where any advanced security systems will be easy to explain." **_

_**At Chuck's scandalized expression, Graham placated him with a wry smile. "Rest assured, Bartowski, you will be allocated ample privacy. The extra security is merely a precaution. Despite your…**_**err**_** in judgment…" A dark look crossed the director's face at the thought, "you two are valuable to the Agency, and we must be able to provide protection if any complications…arise." **_

_**Graham looked to Sarah for her approval before he addressed Chuck. "Your software company will continue as planned. As it turns out, it is becoming rather lucrative, and considering the money invested by our government, we cannot pass up this opportunity. However," Graham warned, "you will have to adopt a pseudonym for your work life. We must attempt to keep Agent Chuck Bartowski separate from your daily life." **_

_**Chuck nodded his comprehension. "Thank you, sir," Sarah added.**_

"_**And Agent Walker?"**_

_**Sarah braced herself for the worst. "Yes, sir?"**_

_**Graham allowed a sly smirk to skate across his features. "Keep in mind I'm being **_**very**_** generous…" The implication was evident in the statement.**_

_**For the first time, Sarah relinquished her tough pretense, nodding meekly. "Yes, sir."**_

_**"You two may go," Graham dismissed them before he turned to Casey, a particularly feral glint to his stare. "As for you, Agent Casey, I believe the general would like to have a few words with you…"**_

_**In an uncharacteristic move, Casey rotated to the pair, turning pleading eyes in their direction. Knowing they had probably dodged a bazooka and unwilling to test their luck, Chuck only smirked sympathetically, clapping a hand on Casey's beefy shoulder, leaning in to whisper in the agent's ear. "Good luck, buddy."**_

_**Casey visibly cringed, shifting stiffly to face the music as his superior bore down on him, the intent palpable in her icy eyes.**_

_**Stifling chuckles at Casey's misfortune, Sarah and Chuck slinked out of Graham's office, heading to the exit to wait for Casey after he (hopefully) survived his dressing-down.**_

_**Sarah glanced down at their softly swinging hands, snuggling into Chuck's side. Turning to him, she nudged him gently. "So, you've finally gotten the life you've wanted. Burgeoning software mogul by day, CIA field agent by night." Sarah propped her chin on his shoulder, her free hand running up and down his bicep. "How does it feel?"**_

_**Chuck laughed, shrugging sheepishly. "Kinda pales in comparison to other…developments."**_

_**"Like…" Sarah prompted**_

_**"Like being able to do this." An impish grin materialized across his face before Chuck snatched Sarah into his arms, capturing her lips in a torrid kiss that sent her pulse pattering wildly and her head spinning. Releasing her, Chuck laughed, his grin infectious with its exuberance. "And the government can do nothing about it," he taunted with glee. Turning serious, Chuck glanced down at his twisting hands before returning his stare to hers. "Thank you for in there."**_

_**Sarah smiled tenderly, the affection conveyed in the barest of gestures. "I meant it."**_

_**"I know," Chuck assured her. "But having you actually defend it to Graham of all people… He shrugged, struggling to express the true magnitude of the experience. "Just makes it all the more tangible, I guess. By the way, are you okay with being demoted to an analyst? I know how much you love being in the field."**_

_**"I guess, it's a pretty fair tradeoff considering what could have happened," Sarah admitted, albeit a bit reluctantly. "I'll miss it sure, but Graham did say I would occasionally assist in missions, although he particularly stressed occasionally," Sarah grumbled.**_

_**Chuck hesitated before plunging ahead. "You think it's worth it?"**_

_**Sarah's eyes flew to his before they warmed to the lucid cobalt of a cloudless sky, a rare color in the repertoire of Sarah's moods, and Chuck grinned at the sight. Sarah only leaned in, brushing a kiss across his lips as a response. "Definitely." **_

_**They settled on a bench outside of the building, and Sarah cuddled into Chuck's side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Chuck gave a small groan of contentment as he covered her hand with his, idly playing with the fingers resting on his thigh. It was a moment of complete normality, formulated in broad daylight without the risk of prying eyes, or, in Casey's case, prying ears.**_

"_**So, looks like you've got your first alias," Sarah mused. "Have you thought of a name for your software mogul persona or are you sticking to Charles Carmichael?"**_

_**Chuck's eyebrows shot skyward at the revelation, and he shook his head. "Actually, Carmichael's lost its appeal. I've got to be him one too many times," he teased as the thousands of missions in which he adopted that guise flickered through his mind. "I'm thinking of something else…"**_

_**Sarah matched his expression, both eyebrows lofting in surprise. "Really?"**_

_**"Yeah," Chuck nodded, a thoughtful lilt to his features. Slinging an arm around Sarah's shoulders, he ducked his head close to hers. "I'm thinking Montgomery."**_

_**Sarah's face softened as the name filtered through the air. "Charles Montgomery…" She tested out the sound, nodding in approval. "I like it."**_

_**Chuck grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Me too."**_

Three years. Three years since the Agency allowed Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker to embark on an epic romance that came full circle as the CIA sanctioned their newest assignments. And three years since Chuck Bartowski knew it was official: he was never letting Sarah Walker go. And as Chuck awakens to the feel of Sarah's lips trailing over his bare chest, he knew he was holding himself to that promise. After all, they had been through so much to back out now.

* * *

Their lives are filled with constant touches, and she is far from shy about initiating such advances. Hands dragging across the hills of the pectoral muscles, a teasing nip at the pulse point, a simple finger skimming down the curve of a cheekbone, all have become routine for them but have never lost the same delicious shiver at the contact. She feels safe between his arms, now chiseled and corded with the training she insisted he undergo so that – although she would never fully feel secure about his safety if he wasn't in the car – she could breathe a bit easier with the thought that he may not know all agency-supplemented one-hundred and seventy-two ways to injure or kill a person, he does know a good eighty three. Plus, not really surprisingly given his affinity for video games and proficiency to aim, he's not a bad shot…when he's not squeezing his eyes shut.

He's a surprisingly assertive lover, never shy with assuming the role of the aggressor. His touches are commanding, his lips demanding, and his body hard beneath her searching fingertips. She admits it's a thrill to see his normally reticent personality vanish in the throes of passion, hands groping and those deep sepia spheres clouded to a bottomless ebony with the extent of his ardor, but she loves nothing more than when he's playing the gentle romantic, tenderly paying meticulous attention to every nook and crevice of her body. He worships her in those affectionate moments, his touches warm and loving, a mere whisper on her skin, his lips ghosting down the planes of her body, teasing with brushes of his tongue, and his eyes warming to a milky cocoa, shining with an emotion she had attempted to ignore but had drawn her in until she was captive in its embrace.

Chuck's the one who's taught her to simply feel. With the numerous times before, it was just a means to an end, part of her repertoire that had only one objective in mind: the mission. She had gone about the act with the same mindset as her assignments: focused and concentrated, with every action deliberate and aimed towards the objective of completion. But Chuck's the one who's showed her how to just let go and immerse herself in the sensations. So when he proposes, she readily accepts. After all, she's already given all of herself, all of her fractured, flawed self, to this man. May as well make it forever…

They had shared countless touches, but there was only one that stayed cemented in Sarah's mind. It was seemingly trivial, overlooked by most who had witnessed it, the action proceeding it much more symbolic to the ceremony in general, but that one touch never seemed to erase itself from her consciousness.

_**Chuck had insisted on a traditional wedding saying with the extremely unorthodox nature of their courtship and subsequent relationship, they were warranted at least one instance of normality. She argued normality was vastly overrated, but acquiesced nonetheless. But taking in the ambiance of around her with Ellie, as her matron of honor and her two bridesmaids having just completed their jaunt. Sarah couldn't help but reassess that. As she emerged beneath the archway towards their outdoor chapel with the pastor waiting at the head of the aisle, Sarah's eyes immediately sought out her groom, standing tall beside the pastor and flanked by Morgan, Awesome, and even Casey as his best man and groomsmen. Seeing him standing so poised and assured at the altar in a classic tuxedo with a wing collar, white bow tie, with matching vest, and the jacket cut to frame his lean physique, Sarah couldn't see any fault at all with traditionalism. No fault at all. He looked so timelessly handsome, his normally untamable curls cut shorter and neatly styled into a side part. She would have mistaken him for some haughty dignitary if, the moment he saw her appear beneath the archway leading to the aisle, his face hadn't split into that endearingly goofy grin she had come to love so ardently. As was her Pavlovian response, she grinned back. Yes, she could give traditionalism its due, especially if it culminated in being one Sarah Bartowski, wife to Chuck Bartowski.**_

_**The walk to him seemed to last forever, each step taking her closer. She could see his eyes light up, and she knew what he was seeing, having obsessed about her appearance up to seconds before her own jaunt down the aisle. He had insisted on giving her everything her deceptively romantic heart desired. Money, excitingly enough, wasn't even close to an issue. Her dress was an Oscar de la Renta original, strapless gown with delicate pearls decorated bodice that hugged her curves before leading to a flowing skirt of three laced tiers. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek bun that lay at the nape of her neck adorned with a flowing veil that reached just below her shoulders. And as Sarah glanced in the mirror moments before she meandered down the aisle, the juvenile notion skated through her mind that yes, she looked like a princess.**_

_**The ceremony flew through in a whirlwind in of rituals and ceremonial speeches, but all of that escaped Sarah's comprehension. All she could see was Chuck, his beaming smile as he took in the sight of her before him, the tears that hovered at the threshold of his eyelids, and the absolute love in the tender way he cradled her hands. This was actually happening. She was actually getting married. And before Sarah can wrap her mind around the magnitude of all that's happening around her, Chuck has recited his vows, and it was Sarah's turn.**_

_**She gazed at the man across from her, that adorable, sweet, unashamedly nerdy man and repeated the oath that countless couples had recited before her. Despite the timeless consistency of those vows, they still held the same weight.**_

"_**Charles Irvine Bartowski, I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths. I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life." No words have ever meant more to Sarah than those in that moment.**_

_**"Charles Irvine Bartowski, do you promise to honor and cherish these vows?"**_

_**Chuck looked into Sarah's deep sapphire spheres, her scent filled his nostrils, Ellie's sniffles permeated his hearing from behind Sarah, and her hands felt comfortingly warm in his grasp. There was nothing but the utmost affection in his voice as he responded. "I do."**_

_**"Sarah Kathleen Walker, do you promise to honor and cherish these vows?" **_

_**Sarah drew in a deep breath. For the barest of moments, unintelligible to an ignorant outsider, Sarah hesitated. Even with his staunch insistence to the contrary, she still harbored the slightest of doubts that Chuck should be marrying her. He deserved so much better than a screwed up CIA agent who constantly veiled the truth behind vague allusions and clever evasions. As she had confessed their first "date," she came with a lot of baggage. Even with all the secrets she had already divulged, there still lay myriads more, buried in the deepest files of the CIA; ones that only the highest of higher ups – and probably the Intersect – were privy to; ones that she was sure would emerge with time. A slight pressure on her fingers drew Sarah from her thoughts, and she glanced up into the deep brown pools of Chuck's eyes. Those spheres shone with the extent of emotions one Chuck Bartowski held for one Sarah Walker. All parts of her, all aliases and covers. Slowly, the lips she had grown accustomed to kissing at any given moment split into a serene smile and formed three very significant words: "I love you."**_

_**As irrational as it seemed, every doubt that was swimming within her subconscious mind vanished with the admission of those three words, and Sarah turned resolute eyes to the pastor, answering his previous question. "I do."**_

_**As they exchange their rings, Sarah couldn't help the little thrill that as she took the platinum band, smooth beneath her fingertips despite the textured grooves resting in the two indentations of the ring, and slid it onto its appropriate spot. For a moment, she gazed down at his hands, marveling at the look of the ring encircling his finger, the sight of the band resting just above the knuckle bringing an inexplicable happiness to her heart, and as Chuck placed her own wedding band on its rightful position, the diamonds shining in the radiant Los Angeles sun, one single rumination invaded her mind. **_**Finally**

_**The minister smiled, extended his arms wide as though embracing Chuck, Sarah, and their many guests. "With the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife." He turned eyes to Chuck. "You may kiss the bride."**_

_**Sarah met his radiant grin, craning her head upward in anticipation for his kiss when a different kind of touch halted her for a second. Chuck's large palm had drifted up, tenderly cupping her cheek. The platinum of his wedding band felt cool on her skin, a feeling that was erased as his thumb brushed over her cheekbone, instantly sending a warmth skating along every functioning vein of her body. They had exchanged hundreds of kisses, each of them different from one another, but this kiss somehow felt different. In terms of raw passion, it was rather tame. They had shared much more heated kisses – most of the time that led to much more than just kissing – but what made this kiss special was its underlying meaning. It was a kiss of promise. Promise to the future. Promise to love and affection. Promise to fulfill those vows. And, as Sarah had come to find out, Charles Irvine Bartowski always kept his promises.**_

Sarah jerks from her moment of reminiscing at a slight touch to her hand. She glances up, and Chuck's big brown eyes fill her vision. She shakes her head slightly, registering their surroundings. She and Chuck are cuddling on the couch, watching a movie like any normal couple. She glances down at their hands, his large palm engulfing hers, the platinum band shining in the light, and she rotates her hand over, slipping her fingers though his. This isn't a dream. It's reality, and it's as close to a normal life as Agents Chuck and Sarah Bartowski were going to get.

Chuck's gaze is concerned as he brushes away a stray hair that's meandered onto her cheek. "Are you okay? You were off to another world there for a sec."

She doesn't answer, only leans forward, pressing her lips to his. As she pulls away, Chuck darts right back in, capturing her lips in an even more ardent embrace, and Sarah opens up to him, one hand running though the tendrils tickling the base of his neck, the other tracing the dusting of stubble gracing his jaw line. As they part, he's got that goofy grin on his face, and a stuttering chuckle escapes from his lips.

"I don't know what brought that on, and I don't particularly care," Chuck declares, his eyebrows waggling. "Me likey…"

Sarah rolls her eyes, swatting at him. Chuck jerks away before sneaking in to retaliate. His fingers seek out her particularly ticklish spots with ease, and she's caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. He's too good, his fingers too accurate, and she curses his perception in regards to her. Rising up on her knees, Sarah finally grabs a hold of his wrists in an attempt to halt his merciless tirade. Chuck shifts backwards in an attempt to free himself, alternating ridiculous war cries with his deep, throaty laughter. Neither notice how close he is to the edge of the cushion, and with a yelp, they roll off the couch, tumbling down onto the living room rug in a heap. Sarah lands on top, her knees pressed into the carpet on either side of Chuck's torso. Hefting herself to an upright position, Sarah gazes down at her husband, lying spread-eagle beneath her. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Chuck answers in a wheeze. "I'm good." Craning his neck forward, he takes in their position with a lecherous grin. "I'm _real_ good."

Sarah wrinkles her nose, but stays astride his abdomen. "You perv," she accuses lightly, and Chuck shrugs unapologetically. Leaning in, she plays with the hem of his t-shirt, ridden up to expose his muscled stomach. "You know, Agent Bartowski, I think you're losing your touch. Normally it takes me a bit longer to be able to pin you…"

Chuck's head pops up from where he allowed it to plop down onto the rug, and his eyes narrow. "Is that a challenge, Agent Walker?"

"Whattya say, Chuck?" Sarah dares him with a slight upward quirk of her eyebrow. "You yield in a minute?"

"I'd say that's a knock to my prowess, Walker," Chuck growls.

"So you wanna prove me wrong?" With a deceivingly demure grin, she clambers off his stomach and backs away, darting towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

Chuck gives Sarah about a two second head-start before pursuing his rapidly departing wife. His long strides easily catch her at the base of the stairs, and she squeals as she's met with the touch of his hand to her backside, urging her forward. She grabs his arm, wrenching it behind his back. He spins away, grasping the wrist that held his captive and yanks it upward into a chicken wing arm bar. They engage in a dance of grapples and holds, making their way to the bedroom where Sarah sends Chuck toppling to the mattress with a well-executed sweep, pinning him with a triumphant grin and challenging eyebrow. He grumbles that she's got a few years on him training-wise.

And as Sarah gazes down into his milk chocolate eyes, demanding he yield and leaning in to capture his lips in hers as he readily acquiesces, an indolent thought skates through her mind. Sure, life wasn't quite what most considered normal. Most couples don't spend their weekends thwarting international disasters or their honeymoon as closely monitored as possible by CIA and NSA operatives, but who was she to complain? She and the man beneath her she proudly calls her husband had dodged every single bullet shot their way both literally and figuratively. And as the skilled and practiced touch of Chuck's hands begin their ascent up her body, taking her shirt with them, Sarah allows herself one last coherent thought before succumbing to the sensations. Alright, they weren't close normal, but they were happy. Besides, normal was so overrated…

_And cut! Whew! This was a monstrous one, but, in my defense, this was a pretty momentous chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this endeavor, and we have one more chapter before this tale is deemed complete! The next and final chapter is the ever finicky ESP…Stay tuned!_

_Roxy_


	6. Clairvoyance and Promises

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing._

_Okay, this is the final chapter of this wonderful journey…and the much anticipated sixth sense. I've had a few comments stating an interest on how exactly I'm gonna go about this, and no, I'm not going to have Chuck suffer through some head trauma and magically wake up from a coma as a psychic…it'll be a lot more subtle than that. Once again, the beginning of this chapter is a bit risqué, read at your own risk… _

_And without further ado, the final chapter of Sensory Perception._

**Chapter 6**

_Extrasensory Perception (ESP)_

_Clairvoyance and Promises_

Considering Chuck Bartowski had quite the affinity for comic books, video games, and had the entirety of two versions of the government's secrets downloaded into the hardwire of his brain, he wasn't beyond believing in the wonders of the sixth sense. In fact, he truly believes in psychics, and he's been accused of being a bit of a psychic himself. Perhaps it's really something beyond his five normal senses, maybe he is just insanely perceptive, but Chuck finds that years behind a Nerd Herd counter has given him insight on the myriads of different kinds of people and how to deal with him. And by covertly studying his wife, he had effectively deciphered many aspects of Sarah's then-enigmatic personality. That slight presence of the ever finicky sixth sense has more than drastically abetted his occupation as one-fourth of the best espionage team America has to offer. Given his encounters with different subjects revealed by the Intersect, that insanely acute perception has turned Chuck into quite the negotiator. He knows the right things to say and when to say them. And, not surprisingly, they crumble fairly quickly to his needs.

But, at times, Chuck thinks that his acute perception borders on a slight clairvoyance. And, even now as he goes about a seemingly normal day, that feeling is particularly strong. It's a feeling that's been nagging him for days now, sending him into a peculiar mood as that feeling overwhelms him. Even Sarah notices his anxiety, saying as much as he got ready for work.

_**The morning sun filtered through the blinds of the room, basking one Sarah Bartowski in their warmth. Stirring slightly, Sarah awoke and languidly stretched, her eyes adjusting to the less-than welcome brilliance invading her slumber. Immediately, she noticed the lack of warmth beside her, and her eyes immediately scanned the room for her wayward husband. Her gaze fell on his lofty frame by the closet, sans shirt, a pair of black dress pants encasing his long legs. Sarah took a moment to admire Chuck Bartowski shirtless. Even before Agency training, Sarah was surprised the first time she saw him bare-chested, his pectorals unexpectedly defined, arms corded, and stomach flat. But as her eyes drift northward, still glinting with her admiration, her brow furrowed as she caught the look on his face from the mirror. It was one that had been present for a few days now, one that was a cross between anxiety and preoccupation. She rose from the bed, clad in one of his t-shirts and snuck up behind him.**_

_**"Good morning, Mr. Montgomery…"**_

_**"Huh?" Chuck jerked from his stupor as a pair of elegant hands snaked around his shoulders, and he turned to find his wife's bold blue eyes peering at him through sleep-tousled hair. **_

"_**Oh, good morning, babe." His lips sought hers in a chaste kiss, and even in an act where he's normally so focused on her, she sensed his fixation.**_

"_**Chuck, honey, are you okay?"**_

_**Chuck extracted a shirt from his assortment of work clothes. "Whassat?"**_

_**"You've been off lately," Sarah pointed out, sitting on their bed, gazing at her husband. "Is everything alright with the company?"**_

_**"No, yeah, everything's fine," Chuck assured as he slipped his arms through a light blue dress shirt. "I mean, what can't be fine with a multi-million dollar company?" he joked, and the quip even sounded half-hearted. **_

_**"Chuck…"**_

_**With a good amount of CIA training and field experience beneath his belt, Chuck had the ability to withstand intense interrogation from rather formidable foes, but under the cool stare of his wife, Chuck couldn't quite maintain an aloof veneer and conceded to her reproachful look. **_

"_**Alright…I've got this…feeling," Chuck admitted as he took two ties from his closet, offering both up to Sarah for inspection.**_

"_**Like a flash feeling…?" Sarah ventured, her eyes scanning both selections. The first one was a piqued dark blue, the diamonds a contrasting pale cobalt. **_

"_**No, no! Nothing like that…" Chuck hastened to reassure her as her gaze flicked to the second option, an alternately striped light blue, silver, and white tie. "It's just a weird feeling…" He assessed his two choices. "Either of these match, right?" **_

_**Sarah nodded as she pointed to the latter of the two ties. Fashion crisis averted, Sarah returned Chuck's attention to the matter at hand. "What kind of weird feeling?" **_

"_**I denno," Chuck divulged. "Just…like," he stumbled slightly, unsure of how to compartmentalize this niggling emotion as he fitted the tie beneath the up-turned collar of his shirt. "Like, something's going to happen, and I'm just not quite sure what." **_

_**Chuck's normally apt hands fumbled the silk, sending it hanging limply from his neck. He huffed a frustrated sigh, rubbing one hand across his forehead, a gesture Sarah had come to recognize as one of his anxious tics.**_

_**Sarah's brow furrowed as she took the tie from his hands, re-looping it around his neck and carefully arranging it into a half-Windsor knot. **_

"_**I'm sure it's nothing, babe," she assured him as she tightened the tie and folded his collar over the fabric. "With the new products coming out, you're under a lot of stress to find a good advertisement team to sell them. Plus with that mission in Guam…"**_

_**Chuck sighed, nodding his head. "Yeah, you're right." He pressed a grateful kiss to her lips. "Thanks."**_

_**"No problem." Sarah smiled. "At least you're not going through some weird existential meltdown."**_

_**Chuck laughed, shaking his head as he turned to the bathroom. "God, I hope not."**_

_**Sarah grinned to herself, puttering to the closet to begin her own day. Raising her voice, she addressed her husband as he primped in the bathroom. "So I was thinking we could have a nice family dinner tonight. You wanna cook us some Italian?"**_

_**"Italian?" Chuck asked, his voice echoing in the spacious interior.**_

_**"Yeah." Sarah stood before her wardrobe in her skirt and bra, eyes scanning the numerous items in search of a matching top. "Alfredo, salad, and your special garlic bread?"**_

_**Chuck exited the bathroom, his hair combed and styled and freshly shaved with his subtle Ralph Lauren scent drifting from his collar as he adjusted his cufflinks. "You know, that actually sounds good…" **_

_**Chuck trailed off as he registered his wife's state of undress, and one eyebrow shot skyward with interest. He sidled up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist as the other plucked a top from the depths of her wardrobe. **_

"_**How about this one?" Chuck eyed her impressive body. "Although I've gotta say, what you have on is equally enticing."**_

_**"That wouldn't be very professional, now would it, Mr. Montgomery?" Sarah teased, looking coyly over her shoulder and into the sepia spheres of her husband.**_

_**"Professional? No, of course not, but I must admit," Chuck's voice lowered to a husky whisper that fanned deliciously across her neck as his lips neared her pulse point, "I'm definitely hot for teacher, Professor Bartowski…" **_

_**"Chuck…" Sarah admonished half-heartedly as his teeth nibbled at the skin of her neck, "you're…**_**oh**_**…" a gasp filtered from her lips as he hit **_**that spot**_** right beneath the curve of her jaw, and the top he picked out tumbled to the carpet as she grabbed onto his forearm to steady herself, "gonna be late…"**_

_**"I'm the CEO, babe," he reminded her, his breath hot at her ear, his palms wandering across her exposed skin. "I make my own hours."**_

_**"Well, you're…**_**ah**_**…" The whimper became much more pronounced as he continued his torturous ministrations on her neck, her particular sensitive spot. His fingertips danced across the swells of her breasts, playing with the straps of her bra as his other palm glided down from her abdomen to rest against her lower thigh. Head swirling, Sarah bit her lip to muffle a stifled groan as his hand began a torturous ascent upward, disappearing beneath the fabric of her skirt. That time, the moan did escape, and she hastened to grasp his nomadic hand before it crossed into dangerous territory. Despite her protests, her other hand wound into his hair, the dark strands contrasting starkly against her pale skin, and she cursed her traitorous voice for being so breathless. "You're gonna make **_**me**_** late."**_

_**"So have them stay a bit after…" Chuck's voice was adorably cheeky at the innocent suggestion as his tongue traced the shell of her ear.**_

_**Mustering all her resolve, fighting to ignore the intense torrent of sensations bearing down on her body, Sarah steeled herself, hoping that her voice sounded somewhat authoritative. "Chuck!"**_

_**"Alright, alright…" Chuck acquiesced, pulling away with a sigh. Immediately, Sarah reevaluated her decision to halt the activities that would surely make them both extremely late at the loss of his warmth and those big brown eyes entreating her as he pouted. Deterred but not defeated, a sly smirk flitted across his face as he placed one final kiss on her lips. "But make sure you take an extra long lunch break…" **_

_**Sarah laughed, swatting him away and pushing him through the bedroom door. "Get outta here and let me get ready!"**_

And now, as Chuck sits in his office, he couldn't quite shake that feeling that had plagued him all morning. The day had begun normally as Chuck went through his daily routine. Nothing different. Nothing out of place. He had picked up the morning paper from the front step before hopping into his car and driving to his favorite coffee place. Despite the early morning Los Angeles traffic, he had made it to work in the normal time, greeting Roland, the doorman before Casey, in his new cover job as head of Charles Montgomery's security detail, had met him at the of the headquarters of Traversal Industries and escorted him up to his office. He had gotten the day's agenda and other notes from Neil Grayson, the agent assigned to replace Sarah as one of his primary handlers, under cover as his personal assistant. But that's when the normality ended. First, a strange postcard had appeared among his morning notes. It wasn't particularly suspicious, just one of those flashy, touristy types, but it had come from Sweden. On the back was nothing but a type-written address and a short note no more than three words long.

_Chuck, Sarah. Congrats._

When Chuck had shown Sarah the postcard, following a _very_ long lunch break, she had frowned and kissed him, shifting a bit on his lap. "You know I love _you_, right?"

"Ye-es…" Chuck ventured, unsure of if he was going to like what came out of Sarah's mouth next.

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. "And you don't recognize that handwriting?"

Chuck looked again at the three words scribbled on the back and resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead. Of course he recognized that writing. He had seen that writing countless times on the whiteboard outside of his room back at the fraternity house. He had read the notes scribed in that handwriting, meticulously copying them after he missed a week of class due to a bout with the stomach flu. He could recognize Bryce Larkin's handwriting anywhere.

Chuck frowned, the postcard clasped in between his fingers. "It's been five years. Why wait till now to contact us?"

"He must still be deep under cover," Sarah reasoned. Dipping her head down, she noticed the faraway expression adorning Chuck's features. "Chuck?" Sarah dragged a hand down his chest, her other hand sifting through the fine hairs at the base of his neck. "Babe?"

Chuck turned to his wife and ran a tender hand through her golden waves. Leaning in, he brushed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Huh…at least I know he's not gonna hunt me down and kill me in my sleep…"

Sarah had laughed, cupping his cheek. "Are you kidding? With your shot, you can so take him…"

Grinning at the memory, Chuck places the postcard away from his paperwork, picking up his pen to look over the paperwork concerning the new software his designing team was creating. Rubbing one hand over his forehead, Chuck leans back against his chair. Bryce's postcard had alleviated some of that nagging feeling, but he still couldn't shake that sentiment that something else was about to transpire. His gaze scanning across the desk, he notices his office phone lighting up on the line to the receptionist, and leaning over, Chuck pushes the speaker button.

"Charles Montgomery."

The perpetually perky voice of his receptionist, Joyce, crackles through the speakers. "Mr. Montgomery, you have a visitor. A Ms. Caroline Carmichael."

The name causes Chuck to pause, his chair clunking to an upright position as he is yanked back to a time before he met Sarah, before the Intersect made its way to his brain, back to when the most worries he harbored were if Jimmy Wiseman was going to give him a wedgie during recess or stuff him into the garbage can.

_**Chuck stirred awake, curled up in Ellie's bed with her arms around him, and the events of last night filtered into his mind: their mother screaming, their father yelling, glass crashing to the ground, splintered in millions of pieces, their mother loading luggage into a taxi cab before it screeched away with her in the backseat. Straightening, he looked to Ellie, blinking blearily. The Bartowski siblings shared a look before getting out of bed and making their way downstairs.**_

_**As they passed the living room, Chuck allowed his eyes to on the shattered remains of their family photo, knocked from the mantle and lying abandoned on the floor. Bending over, mindful of the glass, Chuck extracted the photo from its frame. Ellie wandered where a vase sat on the surface, a single yellow rose settled innocently amidst the water, an envelope leaning against the vase. Chuck joined his sister on the couch as she began to read the contents.**_

**Dear Ellie and Charlie,**

**I'm sorry to leave you like this, kids, but I just couldn't do it anymore. Your father and I just couldn't stay married anymore. It was too hard on us, and we know that it was extremely difficult on you. So, I've decided it's best if I leave…**

_**"'I hope one day I'll muster up the courage to return to you, and I hope you two would find it in your hearts to forgive me. Love always and forever, Mom…'" Ellie recited, placing the letter on the table. Clasping her hands before her, Ellie released a shuddering breath, turning blank eyes to her brother. In stark contrast, Chuck bolted from his side of the couch and began pacing before Ellie. As he rounded on his sister, Ellie stared up into the burning fire smoldering in his deep chocolate gaze. Chuck very rarely exuded anger, but when he did, it was with the kinetic force of an atom bomb.**_

_**"A **_**note**_**?!" Chuck whirled, angrily pacing before Ellie, the anguished expression adorning his face torn between ire and incredulity. "Mom leaves us a fucking note as an explanation?! You leave a note for some jackass boss or an over irritating coworker, but not your children. A note? Really?"**_

_**"Chuck, language!" Ellie scolded.**_

_**Chuck ignored his sister. "This is absolute bullshit! Who the hell just up and leaves their kids?"**_

_**Slightly stunned at the uncharacteristic profanity bursting so easily from her younger brother's mouth, Ellie took a moment to respond before she entreated, "Chuck, calm down."**_

_**"**_**Calm down**_**? You're honestly telling me to calm down?" Chuck hovered in front of his sister, his voice lowered to a faux calm. "Okay, Ellie, oh enlightened one, since you're so calm about this situation, what the hell do we do now?" The smoldering, incensed expression once again materializing across his countenance, Chuck spoke slowly, enunciating each proceeding word with deliberate care. "WE HAVE NO MOTHER."**_

_**"We go on," Ellie replied firmly. "She doesn't want us? Fine. We don't need her. All we need is each other, Chuck. Us and Dad. That's enough."**_

_**Chuck paused in his tirade, surveying his older sister with the bottomless chocolate spheres that conveyed so much depth and so much intelligence that extended past his thirteen years. "Is it, though?" he posed rhetorically. "Is it enough? You sure about that, El?"**_

_**"No," Ellie answered honestly, "but that's the way it is now. It's not ideal, but we're going to have to make it work." Ellie's eyes shone with potent intent. "And we **_**can**_** make it work."**_

_**"Yeah?" Chuck challenged. "You really think it'll work," he gestured between them. "Two teenagers and one barely there father?"**_

_**Ellie quirked a somber smile. "It only will if we do this together, Chuck."**_

_**"You know that's asking a lot, right?"**_

_**"I know," Ellie admitted with a sigh, "but we can handle it. We just have to be ready to make some sacrifices. We can't be selfish anymore. Everything we do needs to be with each other and Dad in mind," she finished, a resolute sheen skating across her features.**_

_**Chuck appraised his sister for a long moment, his deep, intellectual eyes studying her. "Just you me, and Dad, huh?" With an acquiescent sigh, Chuck shrugged. "Go, Team Bartowski…"**_

"Mr. Montgomery?"

Chuck shakes himself from the reverie he's plunged himself into, and he tries to ignore the waver in his voice as he answers, "Send her in." Burying his head in his hands, Chuck attempts to calm his racing heart. It's been so long…

She's a tall, graceful woman, her dark chocolate hair highlighted with a touch of gray, and her hazel eyes sparkling as she enters. She strolls into his office, her skirt swishing around long legs, as elegant as his memories recall, and it's as though he's transported to twenty years prior when the Bartowski family wasn't quite as fractured as the present.

Chuck rises from his desk, one hand consciously drifting to his neck to fix his already flawless tie. "Mom…"

Caroline Carmichael, once Caroline Bartowski, greets her son with a warm smile. "Hi, Charlie."

Chuck releases an unconscious chuckle. "You always did hate that Grandpa gave me my nickname."

Caroline waves away his assertion with a graceful hand and wrinkled nose. "Chuck is so undignified and you, my son, were nothing of the sort." She takes a casual glance around his spacious office, sprinkled with awards and plans of new software ideas. "I see you've done quite well for yourself."

Chuck shrugs, and he knows she's impressed with the magnitude of building and the luxury of his office. Being CEO of Traversal Industries dealing with computer software and technology that skirted just beneath Apple and Microsoft when it came to the kings of the computer world, allowed such expenditures.

"I'd say so," he agrees, and despite the smugness he invariably feels, a slight blush tinges his cheeks as his innate humility kicks in. "Although I do think _Forbes_ was a bit too generous concerning my status and influence."

"And how have you been personally? Any girlfriends?"

Irritated with the small talk, Chuck doesn't answer her question. "What are you doing here, Mom? It's been over twenty years. Twenty years with no phone calls, no letters, not even a Christmas card every once in awhile. You left us with nothing but a _letter_ to explain everything, and now you just want to waltz back into my life as though you never left?"

"Charlie, honey, it was a complicated situation," she pleads. "Your father and I…" Caroline falters. "We just…_couldn't_ anymore."

Chuck's eyes blaze with an anger so foreign to those who know him best as he vents over two decades of this sentiment of abandonment. "Oh, you just couldn't?" he scoffs. "So you _just couldn't_ come when I graduated valedictorian? You _just couldn't_ come and help me out when I got expelled from Stanford? You _just couldn't _bother when Ellie got married? When _I_ got married?"

"You're married?" Caroline's eyes flick down to his left hand amidst its wild gesturing, catching the platinum band adorning the appropriate finger. "Why didn't I hear about it?"

Barely cocking an eyebrow, Chuck doesn't relinquish his sullen expression or tone. "You don't even attempt to contact me or Ellie in over twenty years, you can hear about it the way everyone else did: through the papers."

"And how long have you two…?"

"Dated for a year in a half, married for five with two kids," Chuck answers shortly and shows her the picture of their twins, throwing it on his desk before his mother. "They're two." Chuck crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing his mother closely. "Why are you here, Mom?"

Caroline ran a hand unconsciously through her hair. "Well, honey, I was up in Napa visiting Uncle Jim and Aunt Tricia when I saw that article about you in _Newsweek_. It took a bit, but I finally found out where your office was and decided to come down to see you."

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Chuck garners, striding around his desk and leaning up against the edge. There's an intensity to his eyes that Caroline has never seen before, and it's slightly unnerving as though he's constantly analyzing her. "You have been on the coast…hell, in this _state_ all this time, and you haven't thought to contact me and Ellie once? It's only when you see me in a magazine that you decide to come here?"

"Well honey, it's not everyday that you see your son in a national publication," Caroline entreats. "Charlie, I had no idea you were so successful, it's wonderful. You've always wanted to do something like this. I remember you talking with Morgan about someday starting a software company."

"Yeah, Mom, I always did," Chuck asserts, "but see, the thing is, I always imagined more family than just Ellie standing beside mewhen I finally achieved that dream." He's not shouting, but the words ring as clearly as though he broadcasted them from a speaker. "I mean, do you realize what you've missed Mom? Never mind me, what about Ellie? She had to sacrifice the most when you left us." Chuck's eyes mist over with the bout of emotion assaulting his synapses as he finally confronts his mother after all these years.

"You should have seen Ellie's face when she when she saved her first patient. When her husband proposed to her. When she said 'I do.' But you missed all that. You didn't even try. We worked so hard to move on from all the pain and the hurt we felt when you left us. And yeah, it took awhile, but we did it. We moved on…without you."

Thrown by his words, Caroline takes a long look at her son, far from the gangly, awkward thirteen year old she left him as. He's blossomed into a tall, strapping, handsome man. His hair, once carelessly unkempt and always hanging disparagingly onto his forehead, is much shorter, neater, and styled expertly skyward in an array of spikes. His outfit screams professionalism, power, and even affluence from head to toe, evident in his crisp dress shirt and silk tie, to the clearly expensive watch that peeked just beyond his shirt cuff adorned with titanium cufflinks, to the sharply tailored slacks, to the impeccably-shined shoes. Caroline stares at her son for a moment. He's certainly come a long way from the Star Wars t-shirts and ratty jeans combination so prevalent in his wardrobe but that's not the only difference she sees. He's got this confidence about him that is commanding yet unassuming but surely present, but there's no vestige of arrogance in his carriage. He hasn't lost his endearing charm or that adorable goofy grin. And as she takes in the image of her son standing before her, the thought hits her conscious mind. This is the man her boy has become, and she had no part in it. This amount of success, this happiness so rampant on his face, all this he has obtained on his own.

"Well, honey, it looks you and Ellie have done just fine for yourselves," Caroline acknowledges with a disparaging sigh. "Guess you don't need me anymore."

Chuck's face remains resolute as he looks his mother straight in the eye, the intent clear in his brown spheres. "We never did."

Their moment is interrupted at the sound of the door opening and a pair of heels clicking against the hardwood floor of the hallway, and Caroline turns to the source to find an extremely beautiful blonde striding in commandingly, her piercing blue eyes focused on her son.

"Chuck, honey, we have a problem. There's a situation in Italy, and Casey and Neil are going ballistic trying to get us there on such short notice, and Ellie or Awesome can't baby-sit…" Sarah immediately halts her tirade as she realizes the third party in the room. "Oh, excuse me! I didn't know you were in a meeting." Sarah turns a confused stare in Chuck's direction, communicating in the silent manner perfected a long time ago.

The weariness is palpable in his deep brown gaze as he shakes his head. "No, it's not a meeting." He turns to his mother. "This is my wife, Sarah. Sarah, this is my mother. Caroline Carmichael."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carmichael," Sarah greets Chuck's long-absent mother, extending a hand.

"Caroline, please," Caroline corrects, grasping the offering as she not too unobtrusively appraises the woman her son has chosen to marry. Sarah is obviously just as successful as her Charlie and dressed just as impeccably in a sophisticated skirt and cashmere sweater. A diamond ring and matching band sparkle from their place at her finger, the elegant design and magnificence of the set a subtle reminder of the wealth her son has accumulated, and Caroline smiles at her boy's wife. "I'm delighted to see that my Charlie's married such a wonderful woman."

"Thank you. I wasn't aware you were in town," Sarah shoots an admonishing glance to Chuck whose eyes widen as he raises his hands in a helpless gesture.

Amused at the unspoken repartee exchanged between her son and his wife, Caroline assures Sarah with a small smile. "I didn't tell Charlie. I was up in Napa visiting family when I saw his picture in a magazine I was reading, and decided to come and see how he was doing."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Sarah offers. "We'd be happy to have you. I'm sure the kids would love to meet their grandmother."

Despite the impact Chuck's words have wreaked on her psyche, Caroline still declines gracefully. "Thank you, dear, but I do have to go."

Sarah nods in understanding. "Oh, well, you're welcome to stop by any time you're in LA."

Caroline smiles at her son's wife. "Thank you, Sarah. It was nice meeting you." She returns her gaze to her son, a slightly somber sheen to her hazel eyes as she accepts her place – or lack thereof – in one Charles Montgomery's life. She places two fingers to her lips, extending them out to her son in one final farewell. "You take care of yourself, Charlie."

As Caroline exits the office, Sarah turns to her husband, an expression torn between amusement and confusion adorning her face. "Charlie?" she repeats, sidling up to him.

Chuck shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging in a manner strongly reminiscent of the days he was clothed in a short-sleeved dress shirt complete with pocket protector and grey tie rather than Armani. His eyes linger on the doorway his mother has just disappeared through. "She never liked Chuck."

Sarah cocks an eyebrow, frowning. "Shame. You know, Charlie doesn't really suit you…"

His grin flickers brightly. "Nah, I'm a Chuck, through and through."

"Are you okay?"

Chuck sighs, pulling slightly on his tie and unbuttoning the collar. Turning to Sarah, he slides his arms around her waist, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She melts in his arms, providing comfort he way he had so many times for her. Pulling back, Chuck leans down, his lips seeking hers. She leans into his kiss, returning his passion with equal fervor. In the kiss is a silent entreaty, pleading with her never to abandon him the way his mother had, and Sarah hastens to reassure him nothing short of death would make her leave him. Chuck smiles serenely, one hand gently cupping her cheek.

"Yeah," he answers simply. "I'm okay."

Sarah returns his smile, her hands running up the planes of his chest, feeling the muscles twitch beneath her fingertips. "Well, look on the bright side," she cajoles lightly. "You were right on that weird feeling…"

Chuck groans, shaking his head. "Yeah, but something tells me I'd rather have been proven wrong."

Sarah chuckles, cocking her head to the side as she appraises her husband. "You ready to go?"

Chuck nods and strolls back to his desk, gathering his suit jacket and briefcase, sifting through his paperwork. Remerging with a confused glint to his features, Chuck frowns at his wife. "Hey, babe, where's my…?"

"Top drawer, under the annual reports you were looking through earlier," Sarah answers without missing a beat.

Chuck rotates towards the compartment as per her instruction and rummaging through the mess, finally finding the object in question. "Thanks. Remind me to ask Joyce to fax those to Graham and Beckman. Apparently, they want to see if the _Forbes_ piece was exaggerating or not."

Sarah grins. "Was it?"

"Unfortunately, no," Chuck admits in the sheepish modesty even millions of dollars haven't manage to diminish as he extracts the elusive article from its hiding place. "I was planning on donating a load of it to that women's shelter on Eighth and Figueroa. I passed by it on the way to Morgan's and thought it looked a bit run-down." Chuck's gaze drifted up to Sarah's. "What do you think?"

Sarah smiled. "I think it sounds like something Chuck Bartowski would do."

"What about Charles Montgomery?" Chuck teases. "By the way, if you bribe Morgan with enough grape soda, I'm sure he and Anna wouldn't mind watching the twins, though we should ask Graham and Beckman to send an alternate team if we can't find a sitter on such short notice." Loading the compact Glock with a deft hand, Chuck returns his attention to Sarah. "So what's this about Italy?"

* * *

Sarah would never put it past him, but she swears that Chuck is psychic. She hasn't quite figured out exactly how he does it, but Chuck always seems to anticipate her every move. Maybe he really does have a hint of clairvoyance, maybe it's an indication of exactly why the CIA was clamoring to recruit him aside from the whole subliminal image recognition ability as was the case with the Intersect, maybe he just is amazingly perceptive when it comes to her, but even from the beginning of their relationship, in a short amount of time, he had already deciphered so much of her and the secrets she keeps hidden. And as their relationship progresses beyond anything she's ever anticipated, he becomes even more proficient. When the Monday Morning Blues rear its ugly, unfortunate head, he's there with a cup of coffee and that ridiculous grin of his. When her cover job at UCLA becomes more tedious than normal, she comes home to champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries and rose petals strewn in a bubble-laced bathtub as Frank Sinatra drifts from their extensive stereo system. And when she feels that this balance of normality and the espionage world is reaching the brink of insanity, his shoulder is in easy reach and his arms secure around her.

But the biggest instance of his clairvoyant abilities as he's on the field. Being relegated to an analyst, she's essentially switched places with him, staying in the car while he tracks down their current target. He's remarkable, somehow able to sense things that escape a normal person's comprehension. And with his already present charisma, he's also very apt when it comes to talking down skittish subjects. Sarah admits that she fell in love with him because of the unguarded, innocent way about him, but she's also the first to admit that CIA Agent Chuck Bartowski is _hot_. He's focused on the field, very mission-oriented but still able to crack the inane joke at the most inopportune moments, much to Neil's amusement and Casey's annoyance (although the NSA agent has become quite fond of the asset-cum-agent – though he will never admit it – Chuck still finds ways to aggravate him to no end). And although she is the first to admit that this Chuck is very appealing, not to mention extremely arousing to her female sensibilities, one niggling emotion still arises. As his prowess plunges him even deeper into the world Sarah's been a part of for such a long time, she fears that he's on the verge of teetering on the precipice she once came so close to plunging off. But her worries are soon assuaged. As soon as each mission is completed, he's back to the same nerdy, goofy, compassionate Chuck she fell in love with. She attests part of that seamless transformation to their relationship, but also attests that transition to the fact Chuck tends to let Casey or Neil do the messy killing. He's still Chuck after all…

As the years go by, she is very quick to blame that acute perception to something otherworldly. So she supposes it's not really that surprising that when she tells him she's pregnant, he only smiles a serene smile possessing no aspect of surprise, just uninhibited joy. She's at least expecting _something_, but it seems as though nothing about her current admission has thrown him. Not even in the slightest. His response is simple, and he leans in, brushing a kiss across her lips before touching his forehead to hers, his eyes shining with joy, gratitude, and love.

"I know…"

She doesn't bother asking how he knew, knowing he'll just shrug with some vague, ambiguous answer, but she _is_ surprised when moments later, he slings an arm around her shoulders and makes one quiet, confident assertion.

"It's a girl…"

Sarah frowns, cocking her head slightly. "How do you know?"

Just as she predicted, Chuck only shrugs. "I just have a feeling…"

And he's correct, and about seven months later, little Madeline Eleanor Bartowski is born. Right out of the gate, everyone can see that she's as feisty as her mother. Madeline makes her entrance with quite the notable show as the Bartowskis hear her even before they see her as she utilizes an impressive set of lungs. But about eight minutes later, they both get a shock as Landon Charles Bartowski follows. Unlike his wailing, squirming elder sister, he simply emerges from his apparent hiding place behind his sibling and straight into Ellie's waiting arms. Much to Chuck and Sarah's surprise.

_**Sarah Bartowski had been shot, stabbed, thrown from moving vehicles, and even tortured, but the pain she endured then was nothing compared to pushing a living, breathing infant from her body. Never in this lifetime did she think she would have to experience that particular brand of pain. But in nine short months, Sarah Bartowski found herself experiencing such pain, she just didn't think that it would occur twice. Slumping back against the pillow, Sarah peers down at the unanticipated second product of her and Chuck's whirlwind romance. Blinking a set of milk chocolate eyes amidst the dark brown curls that dusted the top of his head, a wrinkly baby boy stared wondrously at his surroundings, absorbing the world around him with an innate curiosity that would surely to yield to brilliance, if not a boatload of trouble. And as he turned eyes identical to those of his father's, the aforementioned man stared right back, the blatant surprise palpable in the spheres. Chuck gaped, his eyes flicking from his son to his daughter and back again as his mouth opened and closed but no sound filtered forth.**_

_**"Chuck?"**_

_**Chuck's eyes flicked to back his wife before rolling to the back of his head, sending his lanky six-three frame tumbling to the ground. Luckily, with the many medical technicians on hand and after the scent of smelling salts drifted through his nostrils, he bolted upright, his eyes blinking with potent confusion. Sarah's face hovered over his, and he met her concerned gaze with a wondrous look that screams of his son's paternity.**_

_**"Chuck, sweetheart, are you okay?"**_

_**Again, his mouth moved but expelled no sound as Chuck struggled for coherency, the absolute shock barring him from the simple act of speaking. Finally, he managed the barest of sentences. "There's two of them?"**_

_**"You betcha, Chuckster. Awesome, eh? Who knew you were such a stallion?" Devon boomed, reaching out and clapping a hand across Chuck's back, sending the other man into a slight coughing fit. "Sorry, dude."**_

_**Chuck ignored his brother-in-law, instead turning his attention to his wife. "How could we not have known this?"**_

_**"Well, this is a common occurrence amongst twins," Ellie explained. "They tend to hide behind one another, and sometimes, the sonogram just doesn't pick up the other one."**_

_**"We have twins…" Chuck breathed out, gazing at his children. "We have **_**twins**_**," he repeated. His eyes widened as they darted to his wife. "We have a problem…"**_

_**"A problem?" **_

_**"Well…yeah," Chuck answered. "We weren't planning on twins."**_

_**A crease appeared in Sarah's brow as she wondered exactly where Chuck was going with his assertion. "Uh-huh…" **_

_**An identical furrow appeared in Chuck's forehead as he gestured down to his son. "Well, what are we going to name him?"**_

_**Sarah's eyes widened incredulously as she hesitated, unsure if she really heard his prior statement. "You're worried about his name?"**_

_**"Well…yeah," Chuck disclosed. "I mean, the simple fact that we have another one isn't really a problem. We have the room…the house is huge, we have the means…the company's very successful…the only problem is we haven't really thought of what to name a boy…"**_

_**Sarah cut him off, reaching up and grabbing him by the lapels of his hospital-issued scrubs, yanking him down and pressing a fervent kiss on his lips.**_

_**Chuck's eyes glazed over as the sheer passion of the kiss bypassed his lips and shot straight to his nether regions. "What was that for?" he ventured weakly.**_

_**Sarah's smile gleamed incandescently as she shook her head. "You're unbelievable."**_

_**An adorably confused look crossed his features. "Uh…thanks, I think…" Clearing his throat, he gestured down to their son. "But really, what are we gonna name this one?"**_

_**Sarah gently stroked her son's petal-soft cheek as he squirmed, batting one fist in the air. "Landon."**_

"_**Landon?" Chuck repeated. "That's an interesting name. I like it." He ran an affectionate hand through the curls dusting Landon's crown. "What made you think that?"**_

_**Sarah's gaze grew soft as she ran a hand down the squat nose of her baby boy. "It's my father's name."**_

_**Chuck nodded, unable to deny his wife this one tangible reminder of the family she left behind. "Landon it is. And the middle name?"**_

_**Sarah didn't even have to think. "Charles."**_

_**Chuck cocked an eyebrow. "You want the kid to have my name?"**_

_**"Who better?" Sarah asked.**_

_**Chuck laughed. "At least he won't have the misfortune of bearing Chuck…"**_

_**"What's wrong with Chuck? I fell in love with a Chuck."**_

_**"You try going through most of middle school with the oh-so clever moniker of Woodchuck, then get back to me."**_

_**Sarah mimicked her husband's expression, one eyebrow quirking upwards. "Woodchuck?"**_

"_**He had big, wide-set front teeth before he got his braces," Ellie whispered for edification.**_

"**Ellie**_**!" **_

Sarah reverts back to the present, and she looks up just in time to meet Chuck's eyes, the dark chocolate spheres glinting with slight trepidation.

"Are we ready for two?"

Sarah looks at him as though another head has sprouted from his shoulders. "Of course we are."

Chuck pauses, slightly thrown at her conviction. Normally, he's the one who provides the reassurances, and he's impelled to ask, "How do you know?"

Sarah only laughs and places their daughter into his arms. Chuck looks down into the deep blue eyes of the bundle held captive in his grasp before they fluttered close. With the warmth of her father's arms surrounding her, Madeline unconsciously snuggles into his chest, huffing out a contented sigh.

Sarah's voice reaches his ears, soft with affection and conviction. "That's how…"

Chuck feels his heart melt as he gazes down at his baby girl, and he freezes. Sarah's brow furrows as she misconstrues his body language as a flash from the Intersect, but it's actually flashes of the future that skate behind his eyelids.

_Chuck grasping his son's hands as Landon takes his first tentative first steps towards his mother's outstretched arms, Madeline perched in her lap._

_Sarah wrestling with the twins as they splash in the bathtub, shooting disgruntled glances at her husband through soapy hair as he films the chaotic scene before him._

_Chuck and Sarah enjoying scant moments of peace on Christmas morning before their bedroom door bursts open and the twins come barreling in, leaping onto the bed with excitement._

_Little Landon marking the spot above his head before standing back, eyeing the notch in comparison to his father's height._

_Madeline prancing around in a leotard and tutu, practicing her dance for class before grabbing her karate uniform at the insistent cries of her mother and racing out the back door._

_Landon scrunching his nose up in concentration as his father shows him how to throw the perfect spiral, which he does…straight into Chuck's crotch. _

_Chuck and Sarah glaring daggers at their two children as they are hauled into the principal's office for yet another one of their ingenious pranks. Landon and Madeline are pictures of innocence, but Chuck and Sarah know better. After all, the byproducts of two spies are nothing but innovative._

_Madeline leaving for her first date on the arm of a young boy, vainly trying to hide his terror as each move goes noticed under the watchful eye of Madeline's father, her brother, Uncle Awesome, Uncle Morgan, and Uncle Casey, whose fingers twitch, slowly inching back to the gun holstered at the small of his back, only to be snatched away by Sarah, communicating words with a single glare._

_Landon being carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates amidst the cheers of his high school as the scoreboard reads in his favor. He frantically searches the crowd for his family, waving manically as he spots them._

_Madeline sobbing in her father's arms the day she finds stupid David Henley kissing that slut Heather Shaw, amidst the thankfully indiscernible growls from her Uncle Casey about a twelve-gauge and Second Amendment rights._

_Landon holing himself in his room for a good week as his girlfriend of six months breaks up with him, stating he's just "too nice." Madeline threatens to beat the little whore to the ground and Sarah starts rummaging through their house for her throwing knives._

_Landon and Madeline throwing their caps in the air, clutching diplomas as they celebrate with their peers._

_Chuck sniffing back tears as he walks Madeline down the aisle, giving her away to the man who's to become her husband._

_Chuck and Sarah, their hair sprinkled liberally with silver and hands joined, sitting contentedly as their grandchildren putter around the yard amidst their parents chatting amiably by the pool._

Chuck jerks himself from his bout with unconscious clairvoyance and meanders a ways away, gently rocking Madeline to sleep. His head is bent down to his daughter, but Sarah can catch his whispered words.

"Hello, gorgeous. I'm your Daddy. Listen, kiddo, here's the deal. If you're anything like your mom, you're gonna be a knockout and I've gotta feeling I'm gonna have a helluva time beating all the boys away with a stick. So you wanna do me a favor and keep the boys to a bare minimum? I don't think I can handle that stress. Me and Mommy know a lot of ways to hurt people, but we all know I'm kind of a softy. I'll only threaten them. But I'll tell you this, if anyone tries to hurt you or your brother, that shot Mommy's always bragging I've got, well, I'll put it to good use…" Chuck returns his eyes to his daughter, running one hand over her dark curls. "Whattya say, Maddie? You don't date till you're thirty and I'll keep you safe?"

In response, Madeline yawns, nuzzling into her father's shirt, taking the same comfort her mother does from his distinct scent. Chuck takes that gesture as acquiescence and grins. "Alright, sounds good."

Seeing the natural tenderness and the loving care he pays to their daughter, Sarah knew Chuck's prior worries were nothing of import, just a passing concern, and a few days later as Chuck jokes about all the things he saw that day, Sarah can't help but dwell on what he's said. Okay, yes, Chuck was insanely perceptive, but he was no psychic. But in her deepest of hearts, Sarah has no reservations whatsoever in believing that all he claimed he saw would come true.

She gazes down at the bundle slumbering in her own arms, knowing Landon Charles Bartowski will turn out just as kind-hearted and handsome as his father and hopes Madeline Eleanor will reflect a bit of her feistiness. Sarah looks to her husband. Their pasts left so much to be desire, but the future…the future now lay in her arms, innocence and optimism bundled in a blue blanket. It seemed a bit brighter. They could forget what happened in the past. What they made of the future, that was more important, and Sarah knew their twins would never see the extent of the human condition they saw and fought against. Just as Chuck promised Madeline, they would shield them for the La Ciudads and the Payman Alahi's of their day, and the twins would certainly never have to sacrifice anything for the greater good of their country. That innocence Chuck and Sarah had both surrendered so long ago would be preserved in babies for as long as the real world allotted. Yep, life with the Bartowski family was going to be fine. Just fine.

_And cut! That's it, folks. The end!! Wow, I'm tearing up here. It's been such a great ride, and I'm happy that so many of you took it with me. Thanks for all the feedback and reviews for this story, especially the criticisms and advice. Hope to see you all in the Chuckverse again. I'm not quite sure if I have another one in the works. Maybe if the inspiration strikes. Until next time…_

_Roxy _


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